The 99th Platoon: Escape From Batula's Castle
by gappap
Summary: Party of Thirteen anyone? Invited to Batula's infamous mansion for a simple dinner and drinks the 99th arrives unawares that they are being served as the main course...
1. Bad things come in small packages

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

**  
**(A/N the basics: This whole story was written up at gamefaqs.com by a group of individuals working together. We all had our say in the story. I did start it off and ended it, even though I was AWOL for the last half. All Conker-related media (Conker, Batula and his mansion, Sarge, the Zombies, Frenchies etc) are all properties of Rareware Inc. but all else is my sole property and to use any of the characters or ideas you must ask the respective person or myself. So now, for any fans out there, there are the following 99th Platoon stories: The 99th Platoon, Escape from Batula's Castle, WWW's Dream: uniting the Tediz (by Gappap), and Pyst's Tediz Attack. There will be more, one you might see is Chael's PaintBall Wars, a funny chronicle in our history. But enough about me, how about we get down to the ******* story? Good)  
  
Chapter 1: Bad things come in small packages…  
  
He woke up as usual, as it is on a weekend, at 0800 hours. He did a few minor stretches and proceeded to the bathroom.  
His house was messy with little to no luxuries. A soldier in the army, not even a newly promoted Sergeant Major like himself, had reasonably decent wages.  
"It all goes to the Big Wigs," he mumbled. The last Great War had taken its toll on the government's bank account.  
He made himself a soldier's breakfast (A slice of toast with butter) and had just switched on the radio when he remembered he had to check the mail.  
  
He stepped outside, already half dressed in standard military attire, and was about to open his mailbox when he noticed a black cat sitting on an old fashioned envelope.  
"What'd we got here?" he asked. His voice was deep and hoarse and came from deep within his diaphragm. He shooed the cat away.  
He bent down and looked at the peculiar envelope.  
  
The only text on the envelope was Sarge's address and the sender's. 66321 Manor-on-hill Old region.  
"Who d' I know in the Old region?" he pondered as he tore open the wax seal of this peculiar envelope.  
  
Inside a letter awaited, hand written on parchment. This letter was not sent by just anybody, as the style of handwriting was extravagant with elegant curves and connections. A figure of high social standard had written this.  
  
"So which Big Wig are you?" he started to read...  
  
"_Rico Rodriguez,  
Yes. The tales of you and your legendary platoon are not restricted to the military world alone. Even we quiet and humble folk of the outdoors have heard the fame and courage of His Majesty Conker's favourite drinking partners.  
Tales have been told...wondrous at that. Of dangerous Tediz experiments, of stealthful and mysterious entries...of vengeful promises of death.  
Yes...yes...I have come to admire such display of spirit. I must admit you run a firm ship captain. Comradeship. As it was in "The Old Country"  
And being the eternal host that I am, I could not help but request your presence at my humble abode. We have much to learn from what is in each other's hearts. We shall have a feast in your honour, and then when you have dined and I, we shall unify, our tales, under a starry sky in the backyard.  
So I, Count Batula invite you, and your Platoon, to my humble abode tomorrow evening.  
Signed- Count Batula of Squirrilsvania"  
  
_"I don't know you buddy, but hey, free food? I'm game," he went inside the house to call the Platoon. He tossed the letter aside.  
He failed to notice that the red ink the letter was written in tasted of blood.  
  
--The next evening--  
  
"Tediz...have only one brass ball, the other, cut off when they were small. Komiz...Called for their mommy's when the platoon blasted both of their balls" hummed Sarge as he listened to the radio.   
Sarge did have a low pay check but his car was the one exception. He drove a classic model, 89' Squirrelac convertible. Green. Army Green. He loved this car like he would his children. Seeing as there wasn't a Mrs. Sarge. The figure that sat next to the Sergeant was shrouded in darkness.  
  
He turned the steering wheel and drove into the old region. He checked his street map for Manor-on-Hill and could not find it. He quickly turned to look for natives.  
  
No one was in sight.  
  
Not a house, not a flat, nothing. All was dark and grey. The only thing in view was an extremely large hill onto of which was...  
  
"A manor? Oh right, I get it, Manor-on-hill. Ha, ha. Very funny Big Wig"  
  
He drove towards it and parked outside. He closed the car door and looked towards the Manor.  
  
A chill travelled up and down his spine so fast he jerked back in surprise...  
  
"What's wrong Rico?" asked the figure from inside the vehicle.  
"Nothin', the other guys aren't here yet...let's hang for a bit. T's okay with you?"  
The figure smiled, "Yeah don't worry about it."  
  
A large iron gate blocked entry to the enclosed Hill but the Manor was clearly visible. It was bent and doubled over in more ways than could be counted. It was relatively small and Sarge couldn't see just exactly how the whole platoon was going to have a feast. But still it wasn't the appearance of the house that had frightened Sarge; it was what Sarge could only describe as the Aura of the house. With dark windows covered by drapes, an ancient looking attic and that one small window that was alight, with the silhouette of an aged Squirrel peering out, Sarge couldn't help but wonder.  
  
A breeze picked up as he checked his watch. The platoon would be here any minute now.


	2. The Gathering

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

**  
**(A/N I have decide that it would be best to work bottom to top. Meaning that I have already finished WWW'sD:UTT and am now working on EFBC. The stories are in a mixed chronological order but trust me. It's for the better. Just read whichever one you feel like reading. By the way: S.A.A. is Standard Army Attire.)  
  
Chapter 2: The Gathering  
  
She walked out of the car. She told him that she had to make a phone call. Be back in five he had said. She nodded.  
  
Sarge heard a helicopter in the sky. Sarge looked up to see a parachute. He shook his head.  
"Well, here's one of them -- Hey, wait! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE LANDING!"   
The parachute slowly descended to the ground, landing on top of Sarge's car. The reaction was instantaneous.  
"AAAAHHHHH! OREOS! GET OFF MY FRICKIN' CAR NOW!"  
Oreos leapt off, slicing the 'chute cords.   
"Sorry about that ol' chap, there was some wind, so my landing was a bit inaccurate." Oreos asked. Sarge grabbed him violently by the throat.  
"You scratched it!!! DIE!!"   
Oreos garbled through a closed oesophagus.  
"Nice...to...see...you...too...Sarge..."  
  
"Am I interrupting something here?" It was a new voice, unknown even by Sarge. Then Sarge's eyes narrowed.  
"The new guy?"   
The new arrival nodded.   
"You walked?"   
He nodded again.  
  
He was red. That was the first distinguishing feature about him. His hair was spiked up, more of a dusty gold than a dirty blonde. He wore a loose T-shirt, black, and with it S.A.A. fatigue pants. The thing that got your attention was the staff he held in his hand. It was made to look like wood but the three metal slits at both ends gave it away. Sarge knew something sinister and dangerous could come out of those slits.  
  
"What's your name son?"  
"Red."  
"Red what?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean is it Red like Madonna or is it Red Smith, Jones, whatever?"   
"Storm. RedStorm."   
Sarge stared.  
"…riiiiiiiight…"  
  
*wwwwhhhhhooooooo*  
  
"What was that?" Sarge asked.  
  
*oooooooooooooooOOOO*  
  
"Look up there!" shouted Oreos.  
  
*OOOOOOOOOHHHHOOOOOOO*  
  
"Hey, it's..."  
"YEAH!"  
***CRUNCH***  
  
"O-ho ho! Nice one Squeaky, Sarge 'll have your head!"  
"MY CAR!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"   
Squeaky dashed out of reach.  
"Sorry Sarge, the sheer velocity of the lunar-launcher misshaped my previously shaped landing coordinates!" he apologised.  
"I have no idea what you just said but I'm gonna wring your neck!"  
  
A motorbike was heard tearing down the road. Sarge groaned.  
"I hope it's not Johnson. He drives worse than my great grandpa. And he's dead."  
"Sarge...LOOK OUT!" Oreos pointed down the path.  
"WHAT?!"  
CoolGuy blazed past and almost hit Sarge's car.  
"Thank you…"  
  
*K-RISH*  
  
The glass shattered as the explosively charged air vibrated behind the bike.  
"Uh oh," muttered CoolGuy. He tried tearing off in the other direction when something grabbed the back of his bike and lifted.  
"Hiya Sarge…" he mumbled.  
  
The Platoon was hanging around outside the gates waiting to go inside. Slowly in the distance, a thumping sound was heard. As it grew steadily louder the group started to see headlights. Finally, the source of the thumping and lights came into view. The car skidded to a halt in front of them and the lights shut off. Inside, multi-coloured lights flashed for a little while longer and then stopped. The door opened and intense techno music flooded the area.   
Twisted stepped out of the passenger seat, followed by Chael. Chael, the Albino Squirrel, put on his characteristic "wrap around" shades, as he was sensitive to extreme light.  
  
"So, what's up?"  
"How could a soldier like you afford a car like that?"  
"It pays to have rich parents and know what their bank account is."  
"And what about Twisted?"  
"It pays to catch a lift with this guy," Twisted smirked.  
  
The cab that screeched to a halt next was filled with opaque grey smoke. The doors opened and a giggling, sniggering Renato "DaMedic" Mon staggered out. Rasta music was blaring from the engine and the characteristic red-gold-green flag was hanging off the rear-view mirror. The driver stepped out. He was a brown squirrel with two black stripes running down his neck and back. His hair was done up in dreadlocks. Numerous beads and bangles hung off his neck. Mon snorted and jerked a thumb in his direction.  
  
"Guys…*tee hee*…meet Iron Lion *snort* Zion – ILZ. He's the other new guy…*bwa-ha-ha!*"  
  
A fog had begun settling around the lower half of the hill. There were numerous clouds hanging over-head yet somehow the full moon shone through brightly. Suddenly the sound of twigs being snapped underfoot was heard. In two different places. Whilst the others looked around alarmed Sarge merely sighed.  
"Dark – Stealth. Knock it off will you."  
Stealth stepped out of the fog followed by DarkFlame, the Panther. They wore nearly identical half sulks – half scowls.  
"How did you know?" Stealth asked.  
"Call it instinct."  
  
As Sarge and co. waited, a commotion came from the docks south of their position.  
"What the hell is that?"  
Rick "Pyst" Gores burst out of the water, decked out in Navy SEAL gear. He climbed out of the water, holding a big machine gun and wearing another dozen guns. Pyst ran up to Sarge and snapped off a salute.  
"Sarge! I made it!"  
Pyst looked at everyone confused.  
  
"Uh, how come no one else is prepped for combat?"  
"Combat? This is a banquet you numbskull!" Sarge barked.  
"Wha?"  
"Banquet! Didn't you read the invitation?" Oreos sighed.  
"Uh, sort of...I was watching 'The Big Hit' when I was reading it…" he took out the invitation and read it. "...so, there's no assassination mission?"  
"Of course not you idiot!"  
"Oh, well that explains a few things... so, uh, we going up there soon?"  
"As soon as the rest of the Platoon gets here and you leave your guns here." Sarge pointed to the trunk of his car.  
"What!"  
"You heard me! We wanna show up looking like professionals, not mindless trigger happy grunts."  
"But I am a mindless trigger happy grunt!"  
"NOW!"  
"All right, geez." Pyst removed his guns and put them in Sarge's car's trunk.  
"I am getting these back right?"  
"If you behave tonight I'll think about it."  
  
"Left here!"  
"Please dear, shut up."  
"I can't see through all this fog!"  
"That makes two of us hon."  
"We have to travel to a formal banquet and the best means of travel you can get us is **_A DONKEY?!_**"  
"Shertz rent-a-car will never be trusted again."  
"Hey! There they are!"  
"Woah boy!"  
  
The braying of a donkey announced the arrival of Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans and his newly wed wife. Cherry had managed to stay stunning again, tall, slim and with her flaming red hair highlighted by her red dress. Cherry was a civilian but with training in army ways. But she was welcomed always with warmth, seeing as there was no other female that the Platoon had contact with…or was it so?  
  
The mysterious figure from the vehicle finally came back from her phone call. She was tall, as tall as Cherry, almost as tall as Sarge and Pyst even. She was wearing a black dress, sleeveless, that had a split down the side and black high heels. Her legs were well exercised and long. One would hate to get a kick in the jaw by her. Her tail flicked the air ever so slightly. She folded her dainty yet firm looking arms. Her features were similar to Sarge. But she was obviously quite younger. She had her hair down but one got the impression that it was often tied into a ponytail.  
  
Sarge cracked his knuckles.  
  
"Meet my baby cousin – Dana "Déjà vu" Rodriguez, the first female member of The 99th Platoon. Don't mess with her or you mess with me. And I mess you up back. Know what I mean?"  
Deja glared at Sarge.  
"I **can** take care of myself Sarge. Nice to meet you people."  
  
They stared. For a long time no one spoke. They just stared. Some swallowed hard. Pyst made the first move.  
"Hiya. I'm Pyst. I like shooting. Especially with my Big Gun, know what I mea-"  
  
Sarge moved to enforce his previous statement but Deja acted first.  
  
It happened faster than anyone could see.  
Pyst was down on the ground with his head pinned between Deja's knees. She had pinned one of Pyst's arms under his back and held the other in a firm grip. Her free hand held a combat knife to Pyst's throat. Sarge shrugged.  
"Hey, I warned you."  
Deja let Pyst go. Shakily he stood up. Sarge motioned for them to get going. Pyst leaned over to Oreos.  
  
"I've only got one question," Pyst asked.  
"What?"  
"Where the hell was she hiding that knife?!"


	3. Look like the innocent flower

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

**  
**(A/N Towards the end of this chapter, as I was writing at night, I actually got scared. Because in my mind I could "see" it better, I even matched horror-survivor music to it. Ugg. When you get to that part, which you will, you'll recognise where a sudden *dun-dun-ding* should go. Actually not a 'dung' more of a "Jaws-like" *bung-bung* Maybe it's just that I play waaaaaay too much Eternal Darkness lately…)  
  
Chapter 3: Look like the innocent flower…  
  
"Okay ladies," began Sarge.   
*WHAM*   
"Ow! If we weren't related I swear I'd,"   
*WHAM*   
"If it wasn't for..."  
*WHAM*   
"Bloody hell cuz can you stop doing that?! I didn't mean anything." A slight pause then...  
  
*WHAM*  
  
"Look can you not do that in front of the boys? I've got an image to keep up."  
  
*Hug*   
  
"Thank you. Hey what're you packin'?"  
Dana showed the Platoon twin grenade launchers that seemed to appear as of magic from some place beneath her garments. The launchers were packed in the car with the rest of the small armoury that had developed in the trunk.  
Pyst looked at Oreos. Oreos shrugged.  
"What's your specialty ma'am?" Chael asked.  
"I'm a mechanic – avionics sector."  
"What's that?" CoolGuy asked.  
"A pilot."  
"Oh."  
"Can we go and eat now?"  
  
Sarge checked his watch. It was exactly 5 seconds to 12 o'clock, the time they were supposed to come. He looked at the Platoon. They were all here.  
5...he walked towards the brass handle hanging off of the door.  
4...  
3...he raised his hand to rap upon the wood.  
2...  
1...  
  
He went to knock when precisely at that moment the gates swung wide open, squeaking loudly on rusted hinges, hinges that had been left unused for ages upon ages.  
"Come on guys!" he yelled.  
"Food time!" *WHAM!* "Shutting up..."  
  
The second they had passed the gates a mysterious breeze blew them shut. Sarge gulped and turned to look at the long, twisting path to the manor. He thought of the awaiting meal and marched on...  
It was after much huffing and puffing that the Platoon arrived at the manor. From up close it looked even smaller but the height was plainly visible.  
A thunderbolt cracked across the starry sky and thunder shook the house's foundations. The door to the manor creaked open.  
  
No one stood in the doorway. RedStorm ran ahead.  
"Wow! Its bigger than it looks!" commented Red as the Platoon walked into the house. The door slammed shut. Fingers twitched towards side arms and stopped, hovering inches from their holsters.  
Sarge motioned to a coat closet in the corner. They left their side arms inside their jackets and their jackets in the closet.  
  
"Ze Count shall see you now," spoke the butler that had closed the door. Sarge moved towards him for a handshake.   
"Hey there fella. You kinda snuck up on me there."  
"I am very, very sneaky sir."  
The butler turned without even looking at Sarge. Sarge scowled. He signalled to the Platoon to follow the butler...  
  
After what seemed quite a while, for such a small building, they arrived in the banquet hall.  
  
Portraits lined all four walls, portraits of aged people, dead long ago yet kept alive in gilt-edged frames. Squeaky stared at a particular one that looked strangely...alive. He stared at the life like eyes on the red squirrel. He turned and shrugged his shoulders in time to miss the portrait blinking.  
  
"Please iv you may take your zeats. Ze Count shall be vith you soon," said the butler as he motioned to the long dining table. Strangely enough they found two familiar faces at the dining table, the BigWig that ordered the Platoon around and his fat wife.  
Sarge twitched.  
  
"Steady Sarge," murmured Oreos. They sat down at the table.  
  
He came suddenly and without warning. One could almost say he appeared out of thin air.  
"Good evening."   
Heads turned.  
"I, am Count Batula. Velcome to my, humble abode."  
  
The aged squirrel sat down at the head of the table. Squeaky and Pyst were trying to stifle laughter at the host's weird hairstyle. The count continued.  
  
"Yes. Yes. I finally meet the legendary Sergeant Major Rico "Sarge" Rodriguez of the 99th Platoon. Hmm. Such a fine selection of warriors... reckless youth... wise experience... channelled anger... mere coincidence... squirrel... panthers... yes. Fine indeed. But let us leave such interesting tales to be said later. Now, pray, let us eat." The Count clapped his hands and the butler laid almost every food in the country in front of the Platoon.  
  
"Perfect host all the way!" yelled a random soldier.  
  
Sarge grabbed a chicken drumstick. He left the drumstick and took the rest of the chicken. He proceeded to stuff his face with immense amounts of food. He soon noticed that the Count wasn't eating at all.  
"Umm...Count B, why aren't you eating?"  
"I never eat before a good drink..."  
"But there's no liquor on the table,"  
"Yes," grinned the count, "Yes, not **on** the table."  
Sarge shrugged and continued his meal.  
  
Twisted had taken a seat next to the Count.  
"Why don't you eat?" the Count queried.  
"Not hungry," Twisted lied. He pushed his chair back and went to put his feet on the table. Sarge nearly cleaved them off with a butter knife. Twisted got the point and sat quietly. The butler arrived with a flagon of red wine  
"Hey you got any beer?"  
*WHAM*  
"Shutting up."  
  
Twisted fidgeted constantly in his seat. He stared at the drinks being served to the guests. Then he stared hard at the Count's glass. He leaned over to Stealth, who sat next to him.  
"The Count's drink."  
"What about it?"  
"It's…different."  
"How so?"  
"It's a darker red than ours…"  
Stealth's eyes narrowed. For a split second a dark thought that he had been avoiding all night flashed through his mind. He put his mind to rest, thinking that perhaps that film he had last seen was starting to get to him.   
Twisted shook his head and drew a slice of pie towards him.  
  
"So, here we are, eh Mr. Batula." FlatFeet was bored. Deja and Cherry were involved in a conversation beyond FlatFeet's comprehension.  
"Don't ever call me zat again."  
"Whoa!...Touchy fella. Ok then, Count Batula, have you been here long?"  
The Count considered the answer.  
  
"About 300 years. Give or take a few."  
"Wow. That's quite a long time, but it could be worse, right? I mean you could live to be like a millennium years old! Don't know about you Count but I'd be bored shitless."  
"Hum...my great, great, great grandfather lived to be 1000, but he pazzed avay, by a zilver ztake in ze heart. He did a lot of great thingz in hiz life...heh..."  
"Wow!! That's a lot of birthday presents...what kind of great things did he do?"  
"Vell, he brought down a tyrant, and he took over that tyrant, and he vaz a king for a vhile, but ze villagerz revolted against him. Heh. Zhey vere not zuccezzful...he...found another uze for them...heh, heh, heh..."  
"Wow. Sounds like a cool guy, but too bad about him dying though. But I guess you can just say shit happens. Right County?"  
  
The Count shook his head.  
  
"Hey, did anyone see the movie Resident Evil yet? That movie was AWESOME!!!" Pyst attempted to get a conversation rolling. The BigWig stared at him.  
"I like that one part where they're unloading like crazy at the oncoming zombies with automatic weapons." Pyst extended his thumb, index and middle fingers while tucking in his ring and pinkie finger, hence forming "guns".  
  
"I would've been all like 'DIE FLESH EATING SUCKAS' and start blowing their brains out one by one-"  
A chicken bone thrown with expertise from Sarge hit Pyst on the head. He sat down mumbling.  
  
Mon was not eating. His pork chop was fine but as he was about to take a bite out of it he swore that he saw it crawling with maggots. He hastily put it down again. Strange. He stared at the wine. It appeared to change from transparent purple to thick, opaque red.  
Weird.  
  
Every one else seemed to be heartily enjoying their feed. Something was exceedingly strange about the Count.   
He seemed to be looking at ILZ's neck in the same way that the Platoon eyed the last slice of pizza in the box. His butler did not seem to differ.   
Dark was looking extremely agitated and edgy. Mon had heard rumours of the mysterious recruit. Some called him a vampire hunter. Mon snorted.  
  
"What is this?" he thought, "A comic book?" He laughed silently to himself. When he looked up again his eyes locked in with Dark's violet irises.  
Suddenly he jerked back.   
He had suddenly 'seen' a scene in his mind, against his will. 'Showed'. Mon swallowed hard. His hand crept ever so slowly across the table towards the carving knife in the turkey. He swiftly drew it under the table and made sure. Yes. The blade was silver edged.  
  
Chael belched long and hard.  
"Yo Count! Where's the bathroom in this place?"  
"That way. Left, right, third left, straight to the fourth door, up the stairs, down the next and it's the 6th door on your right hand side."  
  
Chael folded his legs tightly. He needed "relief" and he needed it fast. It was perhaps the third attempt to find the lavatory but he seemed to continuously end up in the same room. He dashed down a corridor.  
  
"Third ri- no left then up the stairs and then take the fourth stair down…Arg! I can't take it any longer!" He moaned. He kicked down the next door he saw. Yes! Jackpot!  
  
Upon completing his business he went to the sink to wash his hands. He turned the tap, while he took his glasses off. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and at his pale pink eyes. The water was warm on his skin. He decided to give his face a bit of a scrub while he was at it. He brought his hands to his face. His hands covered his entire face and he scrubbed vigorously. He drew them away and screamed.  
  
Bloody handprints stained his face. He continued screaming. It dripped off his hands, off his fingertips and into the crimson-died sink. The tap was still gushing forth blood. Chael's hands quivered violently. He stared open mouthed at his reflection. His normally white fur was red everywhere where his hands had passed.   
He thought he was scared.   
He didn't know half of it.  
  
Having slowed his beating heart he gapped at the bloody figure in the mirror. Chael exhaled slowly. He lifted his hand to reach for his glasses.   
  
The reflection did not.


	4. but be the serpent under 't

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

**  
**(A/N Heh, heh, heh. You by now have seen the part I was talking about. Ha, ha, ha…Just a note to the actual 'toon I can't remember who was the one who first did that whole scene in the bathroom but whoever it was, kudos to you! Resident Evil parodies up ahead.)  
  
Chapter 4: …But be the serpent under 't  
  
Chael froze.   
  
His reflection grinned slowly, menacingly. He stared into the pink puffy eyes. They turned a blood red. A hand reached out of the mirror and wrapped itself around Chael's neck.  
  
The table was more or less empty. A deep feeling of lethargy and a desire for idleness settled over the guests. A few bones, some crumbs and a wine spill were all that was left on the once clean table. The Count grinned. He could easily see that the drug was taking effect…they would soon pass out.  
  
Chael gurgled. The hand was connected to an arm and the arm ended in a body. It was Chael. Chael was suffocating himself. He would laugh if it weren't happening to him.  
  
The butler had laid a golden goblet in front of the Count. Squeaky was wondering, through a foggy mind, why a) the Count was going to start drinking now and b) what the Hell was in that wine?  
It was only when he saw the shocked expression on everyone's faces that he knew he had spoken aloud.  
"No Mr. Acore. Not _in _Hell."  
  
He was forced up against the wall, right next to the mirror. Powerful fingers were tightening around his throat. He twisted and turned in mid air. His windpipe was being crushed. Suddenly Chael's arm jerked out violently. It landed on the mirror. A large crack formed in the corner. It suddenly wavered and released Chael.  
  
"I honestly didn't vant it to come to zis." The Count rose from his chair. He seemed to float as he crossed the dining hall landing to the door. Mon, through his veil of drug-induced sleep, managed to slip Dark the carving knife. The butler could be seen unbuttoning his sleeves. He removed his black butler's jacket and handed it over to the Count. The Count hissed something, incomprehensible to a normal Squirrel, in the butler's ear.   
  
Chael retaliated violently. He brought his knee to Its chin. It staggered backwards and crashed into the toilet seat. Suddenly It reared Its head back and roared with animal rage. Chael flinched.  
  
The Count's ears suddenly twitched. He had heard something. So had Dark. The Count whispered to the butler.  
"That fool. Deal with these ones and bring them back to my chamber." Then out loud he said, "Pray, accept my apologies." He was gone.  
"What the ? Hey Butler! Wher- Why are the doors closing?!" yelled Mon.   
It was so. One by one they were crashing shut. The BigWig's wife ran to the nearest one and tried to open it. They were locked in. All over the house doors were locking shut.   
  
Chael punched It hard on the nose. The distinguishing *crack* of the fly bone entering the brain was heard. It fell to the ground. Chael turned to run from the room when he heard It stirring. Chael's eyes went wide.  
"You're supposed to be dead!"  
It grinned. It spoke for the first time with a voice like forks scratching ceramic plates.  
"Not quite."  
It lunged.  
  
The BigWig's wife ran towards butler.  
"You sir! What's wrong here? Sir? Oh my! Sir! Oh MY G-" she managed to scream before a much altered butler snapped her neck.  
He had grown massive with broad shoulders and a thick neck. His fur had gone clear, almost see through but there was a large concentration of red around his eyes. His shirt was in tatters on the ground. Butler smiled revealing a set of glistening white fangs. His tail twitched eagerly.  
"Dark?" asked Stealth.  
"Yes," Dark replied. Stealth bit his lip. He had just seen his first vampire.  
  
A sudden explosion of movement occurred!   
Butler was fast. Faster than the eye could easily see or follow. Even in his groggy state of mind Sarge was in control. The Count had forgotten that Sarge and his boys had seen the hangovers of all hangovers. A little sleep potion wasn't going to stop them. Much.  
"Get behind the table!" he barked. The soldier's sitting on the right flipped the table onto its side. The others dove for cover.  
  
"Anyone got anything to use against…that?"  
Pyst was glued to the wood. He scowled at Sarge.  
"Someone told us to leave the weapons in the car…" he managed to pout before a pile driver fist smashed through the wood next to his head. Butler stared through the hole.  
"Push!" Deja ordered. They shoved the table around Butler's neck. He jerked upwards, dragging the table with it.  
  
Chael dodged to the left and It barrelled past, straight into the mirror. The mirror shattered into a million tiny, glittering shards. Chael stared at It in awe. It doubled over, moaning in pain as it slowly started disintegrating. Its hands fell apart into dust as cracks raced all over Its body. With one final look at Chael It exploded into little pieces.   
Chael stared at the little glistening diamond-like shards that were everywhere around the room. He sat down on the toilet seat and breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Distract it."   
Dark was tying his laces. With a loud snap he pulled them tight. He clenched a fist around the carving knife.  
"What do you mean distract it?" RedStorm asked. Dark growled menacingly.  
 "Just make sure it's not looking at me!" he yelled as he dashed for a shady corner of the room. RedStorm looked dumbstruck.  
  
"Err…Mr. Butler?" The monster raged around in fury, attempting to smash anything in sigh with its fists. RedStorm tried again.  
"HEY ASSHOLE! OVER HERE!" The beast roared in fury as it swung around wildly looking for something to hit. With a final twist of its head it sent the table soaring into the BigWig, crushing him under it. Stealth ran to lift the table off the BigWig. The beast suddenly felt a soft thud.  
RedStorm had broken a chair over its head. It turned slowly to look at Red. He gulped.  
  
*tw-ING*  
  
The carving knife was sunk deep into its back. It stopped instantly and fell to the ground breathing heavily. Dark stepped out from behind it to watch on with the others.  
The Platoon stared in silence.  
Disintegration began.  
  
"They are highly allergic to silver and garlic," Dark explained.   
They nodded accepting the fact.   
"Forget all that stuff about crucifixes and holy water. Granted: strong religious belief can perhaps slightly deter them but not for long enough."  
It started at its feet. It was as if it was falling apart layer by layer. First it shed its skin, revealing muscle and tissue.  
"Stake through the heart works too. We should get out of here as fast as possible. They are fast, ruthless and very dangerous."  
Then it was stripped of muscles leaving pearly-white bone.  
"Is it dead?" Cherry asked. Dark shook his head.  
"Only when it has fully disintegrated."  
The skull turned to look at the Platoon. Now the bones were turning to dust. It knew the end was near. Somehow it managed to speak for one last time.  
"You're all going to die down here…"  
And he was gone.  
"Resident Evil – eat your heart out," Pyst whispered.  
  
A loud bang was heard against the door. The Platoon was still staring at the spot where it had lay. Chael suddenly burst through the door as he kicked it off its hinges.  
  
"What the hell happened to you?" Sarge asked. Chael looked around the room.  
  
Sarge stood at the front talking with Chael. Deja and Pyst hung back behind him. Mon stood tending to the BigWig's injuries.  
Oreos checked the other B.W. He shook his head. Dark slid the carving knife into his pocket.   
They would need it.   
FlatFeet held Cherry's hand gently; her body's trembling was visible. CoolGuy and RedStorm were staring at the spot were the vampire had dissolved. Squeaky and ILZ were putting the door back in place. Stealth was looking for anything useful, he needed a weapon!  
  
Sarge stood in front of the tired group of soldiers. He rubbed his chin.  
  
"I don't know what we're up against. I know that we have been fooled into coming into this death trap. I don't know how the hell we're gonna defend ourselves. I do know that we will be meeting the Count again. I don't know if we're gonna make it out alive. Any questions?"  
  
_*mmmm…*  
  
_"Oh shit." Pyst ran to close the door. Everyone stared at him. He closed it and piled up some debris against it.  
"Come on! There's not much time!"  
"Till what?" Oreos asked  
"HAVEN'T YOU EVER SEEN RESIDENT EVIL!?!"  
"Yeah but, relax, that was just a film," Squeaky sighed.  
"We have to get the doors closed!"  
"Why?!" Chael asked.  
"Answer the question soldier!" Sarge barked. Pyst looked at Dark. Dark nodded.  
"They need to know what they are going to see."  
  
"They are the UnDead. Zombies. Completely without a will of their own, they are the worst of all plagues. One scratch will leave you infected. You get one - one and a half days tops. They are driven by only the most basic of desires."  
"What?" Cherry asked.  
"Hunger."  
  
All four doors in the room flew open simultaneously. Pyst stared around the room.  
"Hey!"  
Laughter filled the air. Not the happy kind. Evil emanated from it.  
Pyst tried to close them but it was if an invisible force prevented this. He staggered back to the centre of the room where everyone had converged. They were breathing heavily.  
  
Deja flipped out her boot knife. She ripped a piece of cloth from the fallen tablecloth and tied her hair up with it. Save for Deja and Dark and his knife the Platoon was fighting unarmed. They stood back-to-back.  
RedStorm grabbed his staff from where it had been stored in the corner. He clasped the middle and twisted it.  
  
*s-SWUNG*  
  
Three steel blades shot out of the slits at both ends of the staff, six in all. RedStorm flipped the, much deadlier, staff through the air. The staff sung out its dull, mellow song as it sliced the air around him.  
Dark raised an eyebrow.   
"Nice trick," he muttered.  
  
_*trr-ingle-ingle*  
*thump*  
  
_"What's that?" someone asked in a hushed whisper.  
"Something is walking down that corridor…"


	5. Dead man walkin'

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N It's been a long time since the last time I sat down to write a chapter for this fic…A lot has been happening in both the real world and with the Platoon. Still, in the life of an author, at least an aspiring one, there come moments of inspiration when he must sit down and vent his pent up energy and emotion into his story. With out further delay…)  
  
Chapter 5: Dead man walkin'

  
At first they thought they were looking at a wounded Squirrel.  
  
It kept its head bowed, looking down at its shoe-less feet. The feet were twisted at unnatural angles and as a result caused it to trudge rather than walk. Tufts of fur were missing in various places and showed a sickly-pale white skin underneath that was riddled with sores and wounds. Its arms hung limp, too heavy for it to lift them. In one hand it dragged along a rusted fire-axe. Clothes, typical to those the locals might have worn…thirty years ago…hung loosely off its torso.  
With a soft, spine-tingling hiss it raised its head.  
Its eyes had neither irises nor pupils. Its eyes were a dead white, like those of a cooked fish. As the Platoon looked on fascinated they saw one of the eyeballs pop out of its socket and land with a _*squish*_ on the floor. Rotted, yet still sharp teeth were visible from its slightly opened mouth. A black-blue tongue ran over the top of them. With each breath it gave off a small noxious looking cloud, caused by the decomposition of its stomach acids.  
They had seen enough.  
  
It shrieked and swung the axe clumsily over its shoulder. RedStorm quickly raised one end of his staff to block and carried through, impaling the zombie on the other end. He struggled slightly as he pushed it off with his foot. It fell to the ground.  
"Well," he said turning to the others, "That wasn't so difficult."  
"Behind you!" Sarge yelled.  
  
It was back up and had grabbed RedStorm from behind. It reared its head backwards…  
  
_*ka-FWING!*_  
  
The zombie fell backwards, its head cleaved in two. Deja tugged her knife free from the wall behind her well-struck target.  
"Thanks," Red stammered.  
"Don't mention it."  
  
More unholy shrieks were heard, and this time from all around them.  
"We can't get out!" someone screamed.  
"They're coming!"  
They could smell their prey. Their shrieks became higher pitched as they grew feverish with excitement.  
"**SILENCE!**" Sarge shouted. "Stay focused! Side arms!"  
"We had to leave them with our coats and stuff!"  
Twisted ran out to the hallway in front of them. Seconds later he ran back in.  
"This one's full!"  
CoolGuy and ILZ checked those on the side.  
"It's no good mon!"   
"We're going to be overrun!"  
The first zombies walked in behind them. RedStorm leapt at the first three, swinging his staff in an arc. As they fell to the ground he would leap on top of them and impale their heads. More replaced them. He 'felt' rather than saw Dark flip over him and heard the sound of his trench coat rippling through the air. Dark's combat boots flattened the next two to the floor.  
"We can't hold them for much longer!"  
Any second now the other three entrances would begin flooding with zombies. Deja looked at the north and the west exit, unsure of which to aim at.  
  
"I've got an idea!" shouted Squeaky. He spun round to face Chael. "You've got a good memory! Where's the entrance?!" Confused Chael point towards the east exit. Squeaky nodded. He ran over to the fallen table and hoisted one side up.  
"A little help?!" he yelled. Mon, Pyst, FlatFeet, Stealth and CoolGuy helped hoist the table into the air. Carried in front of them like that it would be the best way they had of pushing their way through.  
  
"FALL BACK! WE HAVE TO PUSH OUR WAY THROUGH!" Oreos yelled, catching on to Squeaky's plan.  
The north and west sides began their wave of invasion. The Platoon sunk back to the east side of the room. The room was quickly filling with the UnDead. Deja, Dark and RedStorm kept the wave at bay as the party holding the table stepped into the corridor.  
  
Outside it wasn't any better. It would mean a long hard push down the hallway before they made it to the entrance hall. In front of them teemed a mass of zombies. Behind them those armed and those not did their best to fend off the other waves. But they were being squeezed tighter…  
  
Stealth laughed. "It's like American Football gone wrong!"  
"MOVE IT!"  
  
Mon screamed, a vein bulging out of his neck as Pyst stood beside him laughing manically. The five of them ploughed into the zombies ahead of them. They met a surprisingly strong resistance. ILZ and Twisted threw their weight against the table and kept on pushing…  
"All at once!" Twisted screamed, "**PUSH!**"  
A large section of the zombies hit the deck and the Platoon forced its way down another piece of the corridor. The troops behind them made sure the zombies that were pushed under stayed that way.  
Their feet scrambled to gain traction on the carpeted hallway…they pushed again, their growls of frustration mixing as one voice. Some zombies smartened up and tried to attack through the hole in the centre of the table. Pyst bit down on the hand savagely as they all heaved once more.  
Another section gained…  
  
Sarge was in full sweat. He could hear the boys at the table struggling to gain every inch that they could, but back here they were starting to fight in an increasingly smaller space…  
"Sarge!" Squeaky yelled. Sarge's head whipped round searching for his pyrotechnic expert. His eyes went wide.  
Squeaky had tripped and the mass they were fighting off had grabbed his leg. Cherry had a firm grip under his armpits and was pulling back…but it wasn't enough. Oreos stamped on the hand and it recoiled in pain. Cherry and Squeaky toppled backward into the team pushing with the table…they gained another inch!  
Sarge raised an eyebrow. Oreos shrugged.  
They turned back to the black tide behind them.  
  
The space they were fighting in was hardly enough to accommodate them any more. They had tried to keep the zombies back but to no avail. When one fell there was always another to take its place. They were pressed back to back now. RedStorm could no longer swing, only jab with his staff and try and keep them at bay.  
"We can't fight them any more!" Dark roared. "Get us out of here!"  
"We is tryin'! Keep ya wig on!" ILZ yelled back.

"Dark, Deja, Red hold them! The rest: **put your backs into it**!"  
Taking his own advice Sarge wiped his hands on his shirt and pushed against the table with all his might. Everyone now had a paw on the wood. Behind them the blades jabbed…but they were faltering.  
"THIS HAS GOT TO BE IT!" Sarge yelled. "EVERYBODY ON MY WORD AND NOT A MOMENT SOONER!"  
"ONE!"   
  
"TWO!"   
  
"**THREE!**"  
  
Pain, anger, anguish, terror, angst! All melded into one cry, one plea, one outburst for survival!  
  
They burst into the entrance hall and instantly dashed for the cupboard their things had been stashed in. The zombies followed along at their slow trudge.  
  
"Go! Go! Go! Hustle!" Chael yelled as he tore open the cupboard. Reaching into everyone's side holsters he withdrew the weapons he knew people had brought, in spite of what Sarge had said. He tossed them to each Platoon member. They turned.  
  
Fifteen nine-millimetre pistols turned, fully armed, to face the zombies in front of them.  
"Aim for the heads," Dark snarled.  
  
***BAM!* *BAM!* *BAM!* **_*fz-ING!* *fz-ING!* *Blam-kl-BLAM-**kl-BLAM!* **_*di-pwing!* _*kl-klan-BLAM!*_  
  
A cloud floated upwards. Oreos could feel the heat emanating from the various pistols. With his free hand he wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead.  
Shells littered the ground around the Platoon. A couple of feet ahead of them…corpses littered the ground, most of them missing their heads.  
Motion!  
  
_*fz-ING!* _***BAM!* *BAM!* ***di-pwing!* _*fz-ING!* *kl-klan-BLAM!* *Blam-kl-BLAM-**kl-BLAM!* **_***BAM!*  
  
**The pistols smoked once more. An eerie silence filled the air, save for the sizzling sound given off by the pistols' barrels.  
  
"I think," Sarge said, his mouth parched, "we can go to the car now…"


	6. Reason for return

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N The summer time lends plenty of hours to leisure and recreation but from time to time one finds his self in a situation that requires his constant presence at home for a number of days. Rather than rot away on the couch I have chosen to see if I can finish another chapter. Read and if you feel like it, drop a review.)  
  
Chapter 6: Reason for return  
  
"Open the door," said Sarge keeping an eye on the two corridors leading into the entrance hall. A sudden silence had fallen on the mansion that until a few seconds ago was teeming with, UnDead, life. It was the kind of silence that comes before a major assault. The kind that sets one's senses alert and hyperactive and sends the imagination into over drive.  
  
FlatFeet went over to the large, well-polished door handle and twisted.  
  
"Let's just get back in the cars and get the hell out of h-"  
The doors flew open from the outside and slammed against the walls.  
"Heh," FlatFeet smiled, "I'm stronger than I look…"  
"Josh!" Cherry screamed. FlatFeet turned to see what Cherry was yelling at.  
A long dead hand gripped his throat and hauled him over the threshold into a mass of zombies.  
  
Every zombie that had formerly been in the house had moved outside. They had waited for the Platoon to attempt to leave…and then they had struck.  
  
"FIRE!" Sarge yelled, raising his pistol.  
"NO!" Cherry yelled, "You might hit Josh!" She grabbed FlatFeet's hand, the only thing visible from the black mass. FlatFeet's cries echoed around the hall as the Platoon looked on in horror. Suddenly FlatFeet's hand was pulled in violently and the zombie horde made haste to find a safer place to finish their banquet…  
  
"JOSHUA!" Cherry screamed, running after him. She ran outside and tried to see through the dense fog that had collected around the house. Far off she could just barely hear FlatFeet and then…silence. She fired blindly into the mist before dropping the weapon and falling to the ground. Her shoulders trembled and then, slowly at first, she began to weep. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up.  
It was Sarge. His face was as white as a sheet…  
"I…" he stammered. "He…" Cherry shook her head and got to her feet. She began walking down the hill.  
  
Sarge looked down at his shoes. He felt Deja come next to him and squeeze his hand softly.  
"It wasn't your fault cuz…"  
Sarge looked up and marched off behind Cherry.  
"Where's he goin'?" ILZ asked.  
"He's going to the car," Oreos answered. The Platoon looked at him.  
"He can't leave!" said CoolGuy. Pyst laughed.  
"He isn't leaving…don't think otherwise…"  
Chael nodded.  
"He's getting a gun."  
  
Sarge opened the boot of his car. He grabbed sufficient ammo for his DDs to last the evening. The rest of the Platoon arrived.  
  
"I've sent Cherry home. As for the rest of us, we're going back in there to get FlatFeet. And if not FlatFeet…we're taking that big-wigged bastard out. Help your selves to what I've got in the car and load up with anything else you've brought with you. Stock up well; fill your packs to near bursting. It could be a long evening."  
   
Sarge had loaded a backpack with most of the necessary equipment when he opened the front door and reached under the driver's seat. Heads turned to look at him. Only Pyst understood.  
"You keep your best, closest," he said as he draped an ammo belt around his shoulder.  
  
M35 calibre. Heavy duty. Sawed off. Pump action. Shotgun.  
  
He attached the shotgun to a sling and flipped it underneath his arm where it hung comfortably. He turned to see the others.  
Deja's assault cannon had a grenade firing secondary function. Sarge smiled. It was the perfect partnership.  
Oreos's traditional K7 Avenger was out. Sarge knew that there were twin PPK's hidden somewhere in that tuxedo as well…  
RedStorm had merely grabbed extra ammo. His staff and sidearm were quite sufficient.  
Squeaky pulled a pair of workman's glasses down to his eyes and fired a short burst of his flamethrower.  
Stealth gripped the ivory handle of his kitana as it hung in its sheath at his waist.  
CoolGuy tightened his fists and brandished the barb-tipped brass knuckles. He patted his Kevlar vest to feel for his sidearm. He was ready.  
Chael placed on his shades. He tossed a final detonator cap into his backpack and zipped it tight. He slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder and nodded.  
Twisted slammed a magazine into each of his twin uzis. He placed them in their holsters. He then attached his assault rifle to the sling around his neck.  
Mon's backpack was different to the others'. It was filled with instruments to preserve life, not end it. Unbeknownst to the others Mon's med kit had been valuably upgraded during their last mission, the Tediz Attack.  
ILZ pulled his red, yellow and green cabby's hat down to his eyes and lit a final cigarette. With his nerves much more calmer he would be able to aim his sniper better.  
Dark was loaded with all the nice things that sliced and diced. Most of his blades shone with a peculiar glint…they weren't your average weapons.  
Pyst was a walking gun turret. He had two ammo feeds strapped round his chest and a third was draped over his arm, ready to be fed into his minigun.  
  
"Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans…" Sarge began, "he was here from the beginning. Against his will," he smiled, "I actually helped in that matter. But he was quick to prove that he was a brave soldier, a good husband, and a damn fine Squirrel." He paused.  
"So soldiers, lets honour this brave soldiers memory," he armed his shotgun, "by kicking this Count's over-aged ass!"  
A round of *clicks* meant that their weapons were loaded and waiting to be used.  
"Let's move."  
  
The entrance hall had a much more ominous feeling about it now, compared to the last time they had walked into it. As was expected the second all thirteen had crossed the threshold the door swung shut.  
  
"So? Now what do we do?" CoolGuy asked Sarge.  
"We've got to get our bearings…we've no idea where the Count is, all we know for sure is that he's here. This is some sort of sick game to him…so he wouldn't miss it for the world…I've got us a plan. Come close…"

  
***

  
"You got that? Okay, get those radios on, keep those weapons fully loaded at all times and let's get going."  
  
Sarge, Oreos, Chael, Dark and Pyst walk cautiously up the centre stairway. Stealth, Twisted, ILZ and Deja take the left corridor while RedStorm, Squeaky, CoolGuy and Mon take the right.  
  
*_FfffsCLICK_*  
  
"Nightshift 2 this is Nightshift 1 over." Sarge.  
"This is Nightshift 2 over." Stealth.  
"Nightshift 2 we've spotted a bogey in what appears to be the kitchen." Sarge.  
"Nightshift 3 here, 3 more on north landing." RedStorm.   
"Can you take them out Nightshift 3?" Sarge.  
  
*_b-IT b-IT_*  
  
"****! Bogeys 2 and 3 down but 1's coming at me...I need cover fi- *_sssssshhhh_* Hol-*_sssssshhhh_* ***BLAM*** get me the hel-*s_ssshhhh crackle_*" Red.  
"Nightshift 3! Nightshift 3! Do you copy?" Sarge.  
"We is on it Nightshift 1! Hold on Red mon!" ILZ.  
  
"Sir! Bogey has spotted us! I repeat bogey is hostile! Permission to fire sir?" Chael.  
"Shoot the bastard!" Sarge.  
  
*_bbbvZWING_*  
  
"****, missed!" Chael.  
"Pyst take out the hostile!" Sarge.  
  
"****! RED! DUCK!" Deja.  
  
*_buck_......**BOOM***  
   
"Nightshift 2? Nightshift 3? Reply!" Sarge.  
"Sarge it's hell down here! Bogey 1 called a few of its-" Deja.  
  
_*mmwwwahaha*  
_  
"Sarge they're coming from our side too!" Dark.  
"I'm on it!" Oreos.  
  
*tr-**TATATATATATATATATA***  
  
"Shit! Abort assault! Abort assault! Retreat back to the main hall! All teams rendezvous in T minus 5! Get the hell off a me you dead mother buzza!" Sarge.  
  
*ch-CLICK **BLAM!***  
  
*_FfffsCLICK_*


	7. Leave no one behind

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N If you found the last radio transmission confusing let me make it clear that the name at the end is who said the sentence. That last bit was actually from a movie. If anyone can tell me the film…uh…you'll get a cookie? To be completely honest with you I've forgotten which film it was…but it was a good one…Heh. Right, get those quills out and review away!)  
  
Chapter 7: Leave no one behind  
  
Sarge pocketed the radio. Behind him he could hear Pyst.  
"Oh ho, ho! I'm gonna enjoy this!"  
*_whirrrrr- **TraTA TraTA TraTA TraTA TraTA TraTA**_*  
A line of zombies fell down to the ground…only to get up again seconds later. Oreos aimed with his K7 and punctured their rotted skulls.  
"Why?! Why head shots? A shot to the chest kills everything else!"  
"That's because zombies…" began Oreos.  
"Did I ask for a lesson in zombies?!"  
As the five moved on zombies swarmed in to cut them off from behind. Pyst turned and fired. The zombies fell. Pyst aimed at the fallen corpses and fired again.  
"Hey, this is fun!"  
  
A zombie lunged at Dark, but he quickly disposed of it. Blood splattered on the ground, and two zombies lurched forward in his direction. The blur of silver that was Dark's sword passed through the first's neck and into the second's gut. Blood oozed out onto his clothes. He kicked the body away, and dashed forward, ploughing a path back to the main hall.  
  
Pyst charged into the fray of zombies, guns a blazing, not caring whether he killed a zombie or not.  
"Yeah! Come on! You can't touch me! Not this crazy mudda!" A zombie suddenly grabbed Pyst from behind. "ACK! What did I say asshole!!!"  
Pyst smacked the zombie with a clenched fist, whipped around and emptied the clip into the zombie's head. Pyst reloaded his minigun. Three zombies made a lunge for him. Pyst jumped back and blasted all three zombies, when he tripped over a zombie's corpse. Pyst stumbled into the entrance hall and ran into Deja. The two fell and hit the floor.   
"Hey!" exclaimed Deja.  
"Sorry, my bad!" said Pyst. Sarge suddenly walked in, steaming.   
"WHAT THE **** ARE DOING PYST!?"  
"No! Sarge! It's not what you think!!!"  
"IT SURE LOOKS LIKE IT!!!"  
Sarge reloaded his shotgun and aimed for Pyst's crotch. Pyst scrambled to his feet and ran to hide behind Chael.  
  
"Where are the others?" Chael asked Stealth. Stealth wiped zombie blood off his blade and shrugged.  
"We lost them after Deja's explosion," said Twisted, reloading his uzis.  
"I and I think dey're still out tha!" said ILZ. He took his hat off and ran his hands through his hair. He needed a smoke and he knew he wouldn't be getting another one tonight…  
"Did they get the order to fall back?"  
Pyst fired at a couple of stray zombies. Suddenly the zombies turned, as if they had given up…as if they had found easier prey…  
  
-=Meanwhile back with Nightshift 3=-  
  
Squeaky's flamethrower roared as it burned the zombies that had converged at the end of a hallway to a crisp. RedStorm's staff added its, now familiar, metallic resonance to Squeaky's flamethrower's roar. He turned to look at Mon and CoolGuy who were busy working on the radio.  
"Hey! Any luck fixing that thing?"  
"I'm a medic, not a mechanic!"  
  
The zombies were never ending…it was almost as if they realised that Nightshift 3 was trapped.   
  
"They just keep coming!" Red shouted as he nailed zombies in the head with the end of his staff.  
"There's just too many!" Squeaky yelled out. "I'm almost out of gas…and I don't have time to change can!"  
"The radio still isn't working," CoolGuy said in despair. He got up and punched a zombie in the head with his barbed knuckles.  
"We have to fall back!" cried Mon.  
"We're with you on that one! Where to?"  
 More zombies swarmed in to close their escape from behind. Mon pulled a large painting off the wall. Red smashed it to pieces, leaving the debris in front of the zombies. Squeaky then set it on fire with his final burst of flame.  
"That's one side covered!"  
CoolGuy turned to the new wave behind them. He hopped from one ball of his foot to the other, always dodging slow swipes and retaliating with a sharp blow to the head.  
Suddenly the zombie waves fell back…Mon looked up and saw the reason.  
  
Unlike Butler this one was thinner and seemed to rely more on a thin frame for speed than on pure brute strength. It hissed in its characteristic pitch and whipped its tail through the air. The Vampire had at some point been a Squirrel, but it was now much altered.  
It was bald of all fur and its skin was pale, a milky white. Its eyes were a blood red and were narrowed into slits. Its tail, once short and bushy, was now naked and long. It acted like a living whip.  
  
RedStorm turned to attack it and found his staff pulled from his hands and held tightly in the Vampire's tail. It shrieked again as CoolGuy lunged at it. In the blink of an eye it had moved from in front of CoolGuy to behind him. Fending the others off with Red's staff, it grabbed CoolGuy's head and tilted it backwards, ready to strike. CoolGuy flailed madly attempting to rid himself of the vile creature.  
  
Mon heard it first…that slight ripple, like a flag waving in the wind.  
He leapt over the small pile of flame and landed directly on the Vampire, feet first. CoolGuy fell to the ground. The Vampire hissed at Dark, dropping RedStorm's spear. Red snatched it in mid air.  
  
"Go. The others are behind. Leave, you can't fight this."  
"What?!"  
Dark threw them his tattered trench coat.  
"Go!"  
They ran.  
  
Dark cracked his knuckles.  
"Let's see what you got…"  
Its tail whipped round faster than the eye could follow. But Dark was trained…he was expecting something of the sort. He flipped through the air, snagging the tail as it whipped the space where his head had been seconds ago.  
Grabbing his normal combat knife Dark pinned the whip-like tail to the wall. The creature shrieked in frustration as it tried, in vain, to free itself.  
Even trapped like that it was still dangerous. Without warning it delivered a fast and powerful blow to Dark's jaw. The panther was hurled, full force, into the wall.  
When he stood up he removed his shades. There was a large crack in one of the lenses. He stuck them in his pocket and looked at the Vampire with his rare, violet eyes.  
"You really have no idea who you're fucking with…" he whispered. He raised a foot and slammed it against the beast's jugular. It choked and gasped for air as Dark kept his foot in place. He drew his sword from the vertical sheath down his back and detached the vampire from its head. It rapidly dissolved as a pile of burning cinders.  
Dark pulled his knife out of the wall and slid it into his boot.  
  
*_MWaaahHUaagGggg_*  
  
"Uh oh."  
  
"Where's Dark?" Sarge asked when he saw Nightshift 3 run down the corridor.  
"We ran into one of…Them. He was the only one who could handle it."  
"What?! Are you crazy?" Chael asked. "Leave no man behind!" Then he added, "No offence Deja."  
"None taken. But Chael's right, you don't leave anyone behind."  
  
The radio buzzed into action.  
"Guys...if you can hear me…I'm going to need help," Dark finished. He turned to look at the swarm around him.  
  
He delivered a roundhouse to the one in front of him, sending it sprawling into a wall. Another, from behind, lunged at him. Dark whirled around, bringing the blade of his sword through the zombie's skull. It's brains dropped to the floor.  
His eyes flickered from the corridor to the line of zombies in front of him. Dark did a front flip over the middle zombie; slashing open it's head. One almost bit into his leg, but the panther shook it off and sliced its gut open. The decaying organs fell to the floor along with the rest of the vile carcass.  
He spun around, delivering a spin kick to one of the zombies' heads. It fell, and he seized its neck, ripping off the whole front. The panther with the peculiar pre-military occupation, threw the piece of the neck at the next zombie, making it stagger back. Just as he was about to finish it off, another jumped on his back.   
A quick kick was delivered to the zombie in front of him, making its head fall to the ground. The panther whirled around. The zombie was staring into Dark's cool, calculating eyes. Dark sidestepped and brought his sword through its torso. Both pieces fell to the ground.  
The zombies started closing in on him. Dark stood, slashing quickly, every strike hitting its mark. Blood flew into the air. The blur of silver entered zombies and exited the other side.  
They encircled Dark, sneering at him. He panted, exhausted. He was tired. For each zombie he killed there were always more to take its place. He was trapped.  
Time seemed to stop…  
The zombies shrieked with delight…they were going to feed...


	8. The Lurking Horror

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N Kudos for the cool chapter title goes to Silicon Knights and their greatest psychological thriller video game ever: Eternal Darkness – Sanity's Requiem. Introducing some more beasties that the house has to offer, besides the usual Zombies of course, comes a chapter about the Beast Within…about the Horror we all hide and what happens if it's let out from inside of us. Read & Review!)  
  
Chapter 8: The Lurking Horror  
  
The Platoon could hear Dark's battle cries as they charged down an ominously decorated corridor. Every so often there would be a stone pillar on which the grim reaper was carved, his hood drawn down to his eyes, his scythe drawn over his shoulder, ready to strike. On one of the designs the long, bony fingers flexed and gripped the scythe tighter. It lay still as the Platoon passed below it. Shrieking suddenly it lashed out and grabbed Sarge by the scruff of his neck.  
"Sarge!" yelled Deja. The design stepped off of the pillar, still holding Sarge in its grip.  
"Get Dark! I'll catch up in a minute!"   
"But…"  
"GO!"  
  
The Platoon dashed off, occasionally sending fleeting glances down the dwindling, primeval hallway until they were out of sight.  
  
Sarge nodded and lifted his shotgun high into the air before ramming it into the creature's gut. The creature let out a yelp of pain and gasped, winded. Sarge freed himself from the creature's grasp and leapt beyond striking distance. He paused momentarily to fully absorb this peculiar assailant. He shook his head and fired the buckshot squarely at the creature's chest.  
  
The reaction was instantaneous. The beast made a peculiar noise, halfway between a growl and a yelp. It stood back and shook itself, much like a dog does after it's wet. Pieces of plaster rained down, along with little chips of cement. The instant these chippings hit the ground however they became almost transparent, slightly warping the area around them, before blending into the background.  
  
"Camouflage…" Sarge whispered.  
  
The beast was wolf-like in appearance. It stood almost as tall as Sarge and was roughly the same build. Its snout was flat and seemed to be plastered against its muzzle. The teeth that lined its large jaw seemed to be made from a metal similar to mercury, with the same reflective quality the liquid metal is known to have. Its paws, as big as frying pans, ended in three menacing claws. The blue coloured fur that sprouted all over its body grew out horizontally, giving the fiend a 'swept' appearance. Its glowing green eyes shone like beacons.  
It opened its mouth slowly, baring its fangs. A strange, saliva like liquid dripped off its teeth and hit the floor as drool. A fetid odour rose from the puddle of spit.   
  
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to brush your teeth?"  
The monster slashed at Sarge. Sarge rolled to the left and fired his second shot at it. The wolf leapt onto the wall and sprung at Sarge, the potency of its bound suddenly far more deadly. Sarge ducked instinctively, narrowly missing this latest attack. The wolf smashed its paw through the cement. Growling it turned to look at Sarge.  
  
Its growl turned more guttural, more sinister upon seeing Sarge's shotgun in need of reload.   
It leapt at Sarge, its jaws outstretched. In one swift, broad and powerful motion the steel jaws of the beast collided with the butt of Sarge's shotgun.   
The beast lashed out with its claws aiming to shred Sarge's face to mince. Reacting instantly Sarge caught them both in his paws. He swung his head in a fierce arc and slammed the wolf in the 'face', sending it stunned backwards, blood gushing from its nose.   
  
Sarge put away his shotgun and flipped out his hunting knife. He charged the stunned entity and shoved the blade deep into the right shoulder muscle, slicing sinew and reaching bone, blood gushing all the way.   
As the creature flailed along the wall, helpless, Sarge armed himself once more with his shotgun. He brought it up over his shoulder and swung it down, screaming in rage, effectively crushing the wolf's skull.   
Bone fragments flew in all directions and Sarge's suit was smeared with its reeking blood. Sarge stared at the fell beast, panting. Slowly he turned around.  
Suddenly Sarge swore in pain. His entire leg suddenly felt as though it was on fire. Turning he saw the wolf slashing out desperately behind him, one of its claws now a dark red colour.  
  
"You don't know when to quit do you!?" Sarge yelled. He loaded his shotgun and fired two rounds, point blank, into the wolf's skull. He spat on the creature and, limping slightly, turned to meet his Platoon.  
Without warning, Sarge suddenly swooned. He grabbed onto the nearest wall to prevent himself from falling down. He shook his head, feeling his strength returning to him.  
"It's just a flesh wound…" he reassured himself.  
  
He was unaware of the fact that his 'flesh wound' had turned an electric blue…throbbing…pulsing…

  
It wasn't looking good for Dark. He was inside a noose and the noose was being pulled tight. The zombies shrieked at him in unusual unison. Dark roared back, his deep, booming roar echoing down the corridor he was trapped in. The zombies suddenly stopped. Dark looked around warily.  
  
"Dark! JUMP!"  
It was Pyst. Dark recognised him from the whirring sound that followed his warning. He leapt up and jammed his body between the two walls. The whirring stopped.  
***_TraTATraTATraTATraTATraTATraTaTraTATraTATraTATraTATraTATraTA!*  
  
_**Dark dropped to the ground, his muscles aching. The Platoon caught up with him.  
"Nice to see you're still in one piece," said Dark, a hint of a smile across his face.  
"Speak for yourself," said Oreos, his brow raised in amusement.  
  
*thud*  
  
ILZ turned to look behind him.  
"Serge! Hey fellas! Help me a biddah he!"  
Stealth ran to lift Sarge to his feet. The large Squirrel had hit the deck like a sack of potatoes.  
  
"Sarge? Damn man you look like you've had better," said Chael.  
"I'm okay. He was a pushover real-...-really"  
"Sarge? What's wrong with you're eyes?" Deja asked worried.   
"What about 'em?" he snapped. Deja stepped back, offended.  
"Sarge you look like shit…" said Twisted.  He offered Sarge a canteen of water, "Have a sip."  
"Yeah thank-thanks I um...yeah thanks"  
"Has he ever been like this before?" RedStorm whispered to Stealth. Stealth shook his head, his face one of deep reflection.  
"Let's get out of this hallway before they surround us again…"  
  
The Platoon walked into one of the corner rooms. Sarge gratefully sat down on a bench under the window. He looked at the moon as it sent its silver beams into the room, lighting up his face.  
He sighed and closed his eyes.  
  
When he reopened them Sarge's pupils had gone from round…to oval. An electric green mist seemed to collect around the edges and creep slowly towards the centre of his eyes.  
Electric blue hairs started to outgrow the grey ones on his knuckles. Sarge's ears grew pointier and slid to the top of his head.  
  
Dark looked at Sarge and Sarge smiled back, revealing rows of steel, razor-sharp teeth.   
  
The Panther flung himself at Sarge and the two of them rolled away down the corridor.  
"RUN!" Dark yelled.  
"What!? Why?!" Chael asked, his hand moving to his rifle  
"He's been bitten!"   
"What?!" Pyst yelled, taking a step back.  
"WereSquirrel!"  
  
"**_You got a problem with that sonny?_**"  
  
Where Sarge stood a 6'9" beast towered over Dark. Rippling muscles with pulsing veins ran down his legs and arms. Sarge's army jacket hung loosely off its shoulders. A shaggy electric blue mane protected its neck. Its electric green eyes turned into slits at the sight of Dark. Sarge raised his paws. Slowly metal claws slid out. "Sarge" grinned a metallic toothy grin.  
  
"**_Boys...you better run. Now._**"  
  
"Sarge" charged at the Platoon, chasing them down a carpeted hallway. He roared as he stamped along, his giant strides matching their running speed. "Sarge" tore out chunks of the wall and ceiling as he chased after the Platoon.  
  
Swearing Dark leapt at Sarge from behind and tackled him to the ground. Sarge took a wild bite, almost ripping into Dark's flesh. Dark punched Sarge in the gut, but the WereSquirrel threw the panther off. Landing on his feet, Dark blocked off the path to the Platoon.  
  
The Panther stared at the oncoming 6'9" monster. They both jumped into the air. Dark thrust his leg into Sarge's jaw, knocking him down. The Panther fell. Sarge swung a giant paw, smacking Dark sideways in the ribs and sent him soaring into the wall.  
  
The Panther yelled in pain, and fell to the ground.   
  
Sarge set off to chase after the Platoon, but stopped as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Dark's feline fangs bit down on Sarge's neck, buried in the ethereal mane. Blood filled Dark's mouth and he suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. It was an act of desperation to try and weaken the Squirrel.   
Sarge's mind clouded over and so did his vision…  
  
Dark kneed Sarge in the back, sending him to the ground. Still the WereSquirrel would not give up. He turned and thrust out with his paws, six daggers aimed at Dark with enough force to punch through stone.  
  
"GaaAAhHh!" Dark yelped as the surprise blow nailed him squarely in the gut. Sarge lifted Dark up and the Panther groaned weakly as the blades tore through his stomach. Roaring Sarge smashed Dark through the nearest door and went on to continue the hunt…


	9. Things that go bump in the night

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N More creatures galore, hence the rather clichéd title… But everyone likes a good cliché every now and then right? If not…well, constructive criticism is also welcome along with your reviews. Readers, enjoy, and then bestow your judgement upon me. Later folks.)  
  
Chapter 9: Things that go bump in the night  
  
The WereSquirrel trudged its way down the stone corridor of Batula's castle, the blood drained by Dark making him weaker with each step. With a pitiful howl Sarge fell through the next door, landing squarely by Mon's feet. He turned to the others who pushed on further towards the east side of the house, shooting the odd zombie. Then he looked back at Sarge.   
"Ok then…I'd better hurry…"  
  
He moved quickly, swinging his backpack off and began rifling through it.  
  
"Luckily I stocked up on Anti-Virus when we raided that lab in 'Tediz Attack'…" he muttered as he searched through the contents of his backpack. He pushed his medic's helmet away from his eyes and lifted a syringe triumphantly.  
  
"And with a little bit of tweaking from Chael and his lab…" he tapped the syringe and squeezed out the air bubbles.  
  
"E voila! A universal antibody." He pierced one of the clearly visible veins and squeezed the red, gel-like fluid into Sarge's blood stream.  
He waited to see if the drug would cure Sarge's disease…in principal this was a disease…and hence could be immune against…kind like a reverse vaccination…

"If it wasn't for the blood loss he's gone through," thought Mon, "I may have been his next appetizer."  
  
Mon looked on curiously as the WereSquirrel's form slowly, but surely, melted into the recognisable barrel-chested Squirrel.  
  
Sarge stood shakily on two legs…Mon ran to him and let Sarge lean on him. Sarge's pants were now shorts and his jacket looked worse for wear, but it was still intact. He buttoned it up and looked at Mon.  
  
"Where…Dark?" he coughed.  
"Isn't he back there?"  
Sarge shook his head and almost fell flat on his face.  
"Easy there Sarge…it's the blood loss…here's a piece of chocolate."  
Sarge gratefully accepted the glucose and trudged off, trying to fill the blank spot in his memory. Last thing he remembered was that Dark was in trouble…  
  
Mon and Sarge followed the gunshots until they caught up with members of the 'toon.  
Deja fired down one of the corridors, stopping the second she saw Sarge. She ran to him.  
"Rico? Are you ok?" she asked. He looked up at her and smiled. She gave him a playful ruffle of his hair. "You big oaf. You had me worried there for a bit…"  
Oreos left Chael, Pyst and Stealth to lead Twisted, ILZ, CoolGuy, RedStorm and Squeaky in an attempt to clear out a path to the second floor of the house, where they presumed the Count's quarters were.  
"Sarge! You're ok!"  
Sarge nodded.  
"Where's Dark Sarge?"  
"He's back there…" Mon replied. Sarge popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth and nodded.  
"I'll go look for him," said Deja reloading her cannon. She started off down the hallway.  
"I'm coming with you," said Oreos chasing after her.  
  
"Hey Dark, where are ya?!"  
Deja shot down two tag-along zombies.  
"Damn, this place is big…" she said to Oreos. He nodded. They reached yet another corner. They both turned suddenly and purposely, guns armed and ready to fire…  
"Clear…" Deja whispered. She saw one of the doors blown off its hinges and signalled to Oreos that they should try that room next.  
They burst into the room scanning for any enemies. Deja gasped as she saw Dark on the floor, slowly bleeding from six vertical gouges across his stomach.   
"Oh shit!" Oreos moved to Dark's side while Deja scanned some of the darker areas of the room. "Dark, are you alright? Don't add another casualty to the list! C'mon Dark!"  
  
Deja stared at the peculiar items lined across the shelves in the room. A thin coat of dust rested on each oddity. Behind her she heard Dark whisper to Oreos.  
"Oreos...monster...leave…"  
"Where's the monster? Don't worry, Deja and her launcher's here…"  
Dark began gurgling and frothing from the mouth. Oreos stepped back and looked along the shelves.   
"There has to be something here that can help…"  
  
"Oreos?"  
"Not now Deja!"  
Oreos heard footsteps approach his back.  
"Oreos!" said Deja backing out into the hallway.  
"We can't leave Dark!"  
Icy cold breath chilled his shoulder. Oreos gulped and turned round…  
  
"Guys…I think we're lost…" said Red, looking at the particularly dark room in front of him. Behind him CoolGuy got the radio out and then remember that they still hadn't fixed it.  
"The radio's still down…"  
Squeaky, Stealth and CoolGuy walked in behind Red, Squeaky scanning the room with a flashlight. RedStorm armed his staff.  
"Man this place gives me the creeps…"  
  
_*…*_  
  
"What was that?" CoolGuy asked.  
The door slammed shut behind them. Stealth drew his kitana, gripping the ivory handle so tight his knuckles were white.  
Something suddenly walked through Squeaky's beam of light. With a growing sense of dread in his heart Squeaky spoke up.  
"Guys…we're not alone in this room…"  
  
"Dark's" face was squarer, his jaw line larger and heavier. Silver fur had sprouted in place of his black and his eyes glowed an intense red…  
Deja leapt into the air, spinning her leg around her to bring it squarely across Dark's face. She relaxed her muscle as she landed gracefully on both feet. "Dark" fell backwards, stunned. She ran out the door with Oreos close on her tail.  
"Thank you ma'am!"  
"Hey, no problem!"  
Behind them, Dark roared and burst out of the room. He fell to all fours and very soon had gained on them both. The two Squirrels leapt in the air as Dark ran under them, his momentum carrying him forwards into a knot of zombies.  
"Quick! While he's occupied!" Deja pressed Oreos on.  
"They'll kill him!" he said, attempting to turn back.  
Dark ripped the closest zombie's head off and round housed the next. One bit his hand, but Dark slammed it into the ground, crushing it. He sank his teeth into one of the zombies' shoulders and tore it from the rest of the body.   
"Ok. He'll be fine." They ran.  
  
"Where is everybody!" Chael yelled, frustrated. Oreos and Deja ran in behind him as he ordered those soldiers left to fire at the zombies pouring down the steps. Taking out his sniper rifle he aimed at a particularly fat zombie…and then hesitated…  
"Mr. Big Wig?"  
There was an even fatter zombie next to the first one.  
"Mrs. Big Wig?!"  
The zombies plodded down the steps…Chael shook his head, aimed for a second through his scope and then shot both heads off with one bullet…  
  
Something was in the room with them…  
Something didn't want them to leave the room alive…or UnDead…  
"Squeaky," Stealth whispered, "We could really use the radio here…"  
Frustrated Squeaky slammed the machine with the side of his paw. The buttons lit up and the sounds of the main unit travelled over the wavelength.  
  
Mon turned as he heard a lion-like roar reverberate down the corridor. Oreos looked at Mon and at once he understood. He readied a second syringe and didn't have to wait long for Dark to leap through the doorway, paws outstretched, towards him.  
Mon ducked as Dark soared over him and swinging the syringe over his shoulder Mon pierced Dark through the chest.  
The Panther fell to the ground, trembling. The silver fur sucked into Dark's usual black, while his body returned to a two-legged stance. The paws and teeth sunk back and finally his eyes returned to normal.  
Panting he stood up. He pulled his tattered trench coat on.  
"Thank you."  
"Don't mention it."  
  


*_KssSsSsHHiIiIITtt_*  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
The transmission was shaky and interrupted by bursts of static. Pyst could barely make out the bare essentials.  
  
_*Pyst? ----------- It's S-----Sto---uy---lth------AAARRRGH!----Ne-----ELP!---ampier!----All around!------*  
  
_"Say no more!"  
He ran down the corridor he had seen them retreat to and opened the first door he found.  
Empty.  
He ran ahead and his heart sunk. The corridor was lined with doors on either side. Behind him he heard the shaky breathing of the UnDead…swearing he turned and fired taking a step back each time, opening every door he walked past…the firing drew more zombies and they followed Pyst's slow march down the corridor.  
The minigun suddenly overheated and stopped firing.  
"Piece-a-junk!" Pyst yelled as he began a fast backward walk, waiting for the gun to cool off.  
  
He opened the door closest to him just as the barrel of his gun began spinning again…


	10. The Monster Mash

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N A couple of lines for comic relief here…Squeaky vs. …well…you'll see soon enough. Pyst leads the guys into a "graveyard smash" hence the peculiar title. According to the main archive there are 35 more pages of text to go through…so you might want to go eat dinner and come back later. *Laughs* R & R!)  
  
Chapter 10: The Monster Mash  
  
Stealth and RedStorm lashed out blindly as the Vampire circled around them. With an ear piercing shriek it lunged straight at them…  
  
*BAM!*  
  
The door flew open and Pyst ran in, gun blazing. He fired squarely into the Vampire's chest sending it flying backwards into a wall.  
  
"Pyst? What the he-"  
"RUN GUYS! RUN LIKE A *****!!!"  
Pyst ran back down the corridor.   
"Why?" CoolGuy asked seconds before a small army of the UnDead began to pour into the room.  
"Pyst you ****! You just had to bring 'em this way didn't you!" Red yelled.  
Squeaky and CoolGuy opened fire as Stealth and RedStorm slashed away. Pyst came up behind the group, clearing the doorway.  
"I ALREADY TRIED THAT! THERE'S TOO MANY OF 'EM!!"  
Pyst ran away again  
"He could be right..." Stealth murmured.  
"I don't wanna find out if he is!"  
The four chased after Pyst, the zombies snapping along at their heels. Squeaky stopped and turned to face the onslaught, while the others ran on ahead, unawares.  
  
"All right guys, ya wanna piece of me?" he laughed wickedly, "Then come and get it!" He grinned wildly as his eyes lit up with their manic blaze. He armed a grenade and ran forward, tossing it with an underarm throw. Seconds later flame erupted from the zombies and shot skywards. The whole room was covered with blood and organs. Squeaky was blown backwards from the suppressed shockwave. He landed on the floor, his front teeth chipped, his helmet busted and dented, twitching occasionally.  
  
"Squeaky!"  
Sarge followed the sound of the explosion and saw the wounded pyrotechnic. He removed his basic med kit from his backpack.   
"Shit. Errr look Squeaky lemme try and patch you up here...right...this funny thing goes here...and if we rub some o' that over there we might...yep...it looks 'bout right...uh ha!"  
Squeaky was completely wrapped in bandages. He mumbled something from beneath the white wrappings.   
"You can thank me later!"  
Squeaky forced his hands and feet out of the bandages and removed them from his face. His eyes went wide and he pointed behind Sarge.  
Sarge turned and saw a giant, shaggy Vampire looming over his shoulder, each of its fists as big as Sarge's head.  
  
The Vampire opened its mouth wide, preparing to snap Sarge's head up…  
  
*_Buck…*_  
  
The grenade soared over their heads and landed in the beast's open mouth. Sarge and Squeaky hit the deck as the head exploded, sending gore all over the room.  
Sarge looked up and gratefully accepted Deja's help in pulling him to his feet.  
"What took you?"  
"I had a little problem…" She patted her grenade launcher. "But I took care of it."  
  
"SARGE! LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!" Squeaky pulled out his flamethrower and fired past Sarge, singeing his tail. "Die vile beast of Hell!"  
Sarge turned around to see a small bat fluttering down the corridor.  
"Squeaky, have you lost your min-"  
  
The bat suddenly dropped into a dive and swooped under Squeaky's helmet.   
"AHHHHHHHHH! IT'S IN MY HAIR! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!"  
"Squeaky..."  
"GET IT OUT! HELP ME! AHHHHHHHHHH!"  
"If you'll just..."   
"IT'S CRAWLING! HELP!"   
"SQUEAKY!"  
"Don't worry Sarge, he'll pass out soon," said Deja.  
  
"ARGH! Can't...see...bat...poison...the bat apocalypse is here...we're...doomed!"  
The bat zipped out from under Squeaky's helmet and continued on its merry little way. Squeaky fell to the ground, his feet up in the air.  
"Told you so."  
"Great…now I need to fix him again…"  
  
"All units! All units! We need a regroup location!" Sarge yelled over the radio.  
"Pyst here, there's a good spot out on the east side."  
"What is it? Chael over…"  
"It's the cemetery."  
"That'll do. You heard the order boys, all units: to the cemetery!"  
  
Pyst pocketed his radio.  
"Don't zombies usually hang around in cemeteries?" CoolGuy asked.   
"No," Pyst replied, "Why should they?"  
Pyst ran towards the cemetery, RedStorm, CoolGuy, and Stealth chasing after him.  
  
-=Later=-  
  
Pyst, Stealth, Mon, CoolGuy, Dark and RedStorm crept through the cemetery.  
"How much further?" RedStorm asked.  
"This place is creeping the hell outta me!" Mon hissed.  
"Live with it! A little fear makes you stronger!" said Pyst.  
  
*_Ugggg…_*  
  
"Cut that out Stealth!"  
"That wasn't me Pyst…"   
"Uh-oh..."  
Zombies emerged from the ground in every direction. CoolGuy swore loudly.   
"Great idea Pyst! Lets go through the cemetery!!!" RedStorm yelled in frustration.   
"I know it was great idea…"   
"I was being sarcastic you dick!"   
"Just shut the hell up and just shoot the bastards!" Dark roared.  
  
Blood flew everywhere as bullets, and swords blurred. Dark struck down another zombie by gutting it. The organs lay on the ground in a puddle of ooze.   
Zombies enclosed the platoon on all sides. Pyst kept fighting, not giving up. The rest were encouraged by him, and retaliated, doubling their attack against the zombies. Stealth brought his blade almost elegantly through a zombie's neck. Its head fell to the ground, rolling down the slope. Dark flipped onto the other side of the zombies, and claimed a few heads of his own.  
  
Soon enough, the encirclement was gone, and new zombies rose from the ground. The Platoon ran forward ploughing their way through before they could be pinned down.  
  
Pyst fired, two bullets tearing through the last zombie's skull.   
"That it? Did we get 'em all?!"  
Pyst looked over at Dark, who was still recovering from his mutation. The transformation had healed the wound "Sarge" had given him but he still felt woozy. He slumped down against a tombstone.  
"You alright Dark?"  
"I'm fine..."  
"Ya sure? Cause most people say that when they don't usually mean it and they wind up dead most of the time."  
Dark growled at Pyst.   
"Hey, if you say you're fine, you're fine I guess."   
"GUYS! We could really use a hand right now!" RedStorm yelled.  
Pyst turned to see Stealth, CoolGuy and RedStorm battling a sinewy Vampire, almost identical to Butler, the first one they had met.   
"Holy! Mon keep an eye on Dark!"   
Mon nodded. Pyst charged after the Vampire and readied his gun…  
  
-click-click-click-  
  
"Dammit! I'm empty!"  
The Vampire raised his arm over CoolGuy preparing to crush him.   
"Like hell you piece of dog ****!" Pyst yelled. He grabbed his combat knife and jumped on the Vampire's back. He rammed the blade into its shoulder. It roared in pain and tried to shake Pyst off.   
"Hit it guys!!!"  
RedStorm and CoolGuy open fire, but the beast is appeared unaffected by bullets.  
"Mon! Dark! Get your asses out here!"  
"Dark isn't here!" Mon yelled back. Pyst almost lost his grip on the Vampire's neck.  
"What?!"  
"He ran off muttering something about silver!"  
"Bloody hell!"  
The Vampire suddenly swung his neck and Pyst went flying. Stealth tried to slash at the Vampire. Pyst raised a hand.  
"You need heavy weapons! Everything else just isn't strong enough!" he got to his feet, his weapon reloaded.   
"You can't fight that thing alone!" yelled CoolGuy.   
"Don't worry, Mon will back me up. Right Mon?"   
"Um..."   
"Good! Just hurry up guys! Find Sarge! We'll be alright!"   
The rest left to find Sarge and the others leaving Mon and Pyst standing in front of the towering monstrosity. The Vampire crouched into an attack position.  
"You want a piece of me eh? Come on you little bitch!"   
"Taunting it may not be a good idea at the moment..."  
  
The Vampire jumped, both arms raised. Suddenly, it screamed in pain as a sword cut it in half. The Vampire burst into a pile of sizzling embers. Dark breathed heavily, clutching his sword in his right hand.   
"Alright! Way to go man!" Mon cheered.  
"That's some mighty fine 'cutting in half' dude!" commented Pyst.  
  
*_We're at the cemetery with RedStorm and Stealth. Pyst? Are you guys ok? Do you copy? Over._*  
"We copy Chael…be there in a second…"  
Patting Dark on the back the fearless trio made its way through the graveyard.


	11. Family Portraits

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N While the little bit of history that you are very soon going to receive may seem confusing to you it all happened in earlier years, prior to any involvement with the military branch. This is a long chapter I won't lie to you. But it's a lot of single lines, so it only looks like a lot. Enjoy Pyst in action, I've only edited his text in a grammatical sense, not rewritten it. It's all Pyst. Enjoy the chapter Lieutenant: you earned it. Readers: Enjoy!)  
  
Chapter 11: Family Portraits  
  
"Glad to see we all made it." Sarge looked around at the Platoon. They weren't in top shape, but they were still ready to keep on fighting. The sky was a few shades lighter, as daylight approached closer still…  
  
"Zombie!"  
  
Everyone's heads turned prepared to fight back another onslaught…but surprisingly they only saw one lone zombie in a dinner suit march towards them.  
"What the Hell is going on…" Sarge whispered.  
"Sarge!" Twisted exclaimed, "Its wearing FlatFeet's clothes!"  
Oreos looked closer still.  
"And FlatFeet's glasses!"  
"Wot tha?!" ILZ cried out, taking his hat off and scratching his head.  
"It…it's…" Deja stammered.  
   
"_Yeah, it's me...uuhhh..._" FlatFeet moaned. Oreos ran to help him.  
  
"_Don't come...any closer...uuhhh...I **am** a zombie!_" FlatFeet groaned.   
"Soldier! What the hell happened to you?" questioned Sarge.   
  
"_Those zombies…they took me to Batula…they didn't attack me…he…he controls them…their every thought with this amulet. He took out the amulet and shone a light onto me…and here I am,_" said FlatFeet.   
"_But I can't stay around you guys...because my zombie instincts might snap, being around all these...juicy...tender bodies...uuhhh..._" FlatFeet drooled and move closer to Squeaky. Then he recoiled and took two steps back._   
_"_I must leave…huhhh… Find the amulet…and hurry…the process is reversible till daylight…hurry Sarge…_"  
With that he turned and hurried back into the castle.  
For a while no one spoke.   
  
Sarge shook his head.  
"Well…you heard him… Are we in control of the ground floor?"  
Chael nodded.  
"Pretty much so, we won't have any trouble getting upstairs."  
"Ok then. Let's pay the Count a visit."  
As they turned to set off towards the mansion Sarge saw Twisted scratching away at one of the tombstones with his knife. Sarge let the others go ahead and he paused to see what he was writing…  
He smiled and the two made their way after the others.  
  
~~We'r comin 4 F.F~~  
~~Plat99n wuz here~~  
  
-=Some time later…=-  
  
"Ok. Oreos go up first and check it out. Radio us if the room's clear…and radio us if it isn't."  
"Sure thing Sarge." Placing a stick of gum in his mouth Oreos made his way up the stairs chewing loudly.  
  
He kicked the door to the first room he saw open and ran in ready to fire. All clear. He let his Avenger hang loosely on its strap as he peered at the room he had entered. It appeared to be a gallery of sorts. Large and small paintings, of all shapes and sizes hung across the room. Aged faces of Vampires, forgotten through time and melted into legend, were the main subjects in the paintings.  
"It's like a family album," Oreos muttered to no one in particular. Suddenly he stopped and gazed at a particularly large painting in the centre of the room.  
It was a painting of six figures, very dominating in their visage and stance. The first was the Count. The next two Oreos recognised as Butler and the Whip Vampire Dark had killed. He looked at the last three.  
His jaw dropped open.  
It was Sarge, Pyst and Dark.  
  
He moved his hand to his radio when he heard the door behind him swing shut. He jumped and turned to see Pyst and Dark staring at him.  
"Stay away from me!" Oreos yelled. Dark looked at Pyst.  
"What are you talking about Oreos?" Pyst asked.  
"Get back!" He raised his K7 and pointed it in Pyst's direction.  
"Easy now," said Dark raising his hands.  
"Easy?! How do you explain that?!" He pointed at the painting.  
  
"Alright…listen Oreos…don't freak out on us…" said Dark quietly.  
"Oreos, listen. That's my twin brother, Roger Gores. He used to work as a Vampire Hunter."  
Dark nodded.  
"I worked with them. That's an old painting…before we knew that the other three were…well…you know…"  
"I only met them once when Roger brought them home…they were big drinkers…"  
"And what's Sarge doing there?" Oreos asked. Dark shrugged.  
"I really don't know."  
"Maybe there's more to Sarge than he let's on…"  
Dark and Oreos looked at Pyst.  
"Or maybe not."   
Dark continued the story.  
"Look, Roger died in a raid a while back. The Count and the other two double-crossed us. I barely made it out."  
  
They looked at the picture.  
"Why the heck is it hanging in the Count's castle?" Oreos asked.  
"Maybe it's a reminder of how the Count and his two Vampires managed to defeat three hunters…"  
  
*_You're wrong there brother…_*  
  
They spun round and saw what could've been Pyst, save for the red eyes and pale complexion.   
"The hell? I thought you were…"  
"Dead? Oh no, brother. I was recruited."  
"Well, glad you're doing alright for yourself."   
"What? Don't you care that your dear brother is now a slave to the Count?"   
"Not really. To tell the truth, I never liked you anyway."   
"YOU SON OF A-"  
"Now, now. Mom was a great Squirrel."  
Roger dived on Pyst, Pyst kicked him off.  
"Dark! Oreos! Get outta here! This is a family matter…"  
Oreos and Dark left the room. Pyst charged Roger. He jumped and kicked Pyst in the face. Pyst rolled to the side and tackled Roger to the ground. He raised his fist and began pummelling his brother's face.  
  
Oreos and Dark ran back to the Platoon. Suddenly they heard a deep, menacing laugh behind them.  
  
"You." Sarge spat.  
"Rico…" the Count glided in behind Dark and Oreos. They moved to attack but Sarge signalled for them to back down. They came back to the main unit as Sarge walked up the steps to Batula.  
  
"I am glad to see you're still here Rico. It vould be a shame for someone like you to be…lost."  
"I thought you had changed Batula…I thought you had learned."  
"Yes. You didn't recognize me from ze letter?"  
"No. Sorry to tell you this but you've grown old. I didn't even recognize you up close."  
"You too aren't any younger Rico."  
Silence.  
"Ve could've gone so far Rico…you and I…ve could've ruled ze country!"  
  
The rest of the Platoon looked on in awe at this peculiar reunion. Apparently Sarge not only knew Batula from a long time ago…but they had fought together.  
"You're little friend over zere asked, Rico, vhy I have a painting vith all my former adversaries…"  
"What's the answer?"  
The Count suddenly grasped Sarge by his collar and drew a cruel dagger from inside his robes.  
"Keep your friends close…but your enemies much closer!"  
He brought the dagger down…  
  
*ka-TING*  
  
Dark and Stealth's blades blocked Batula's attack. The Count roared and in a flash of green light all three of them had vanished…  
  
"Spread out! Find him! And don't forget the amulet!"  
No one had time to question Sarge's order, or ask about his history with the Count. They had to move fast.  
  
Pyst and Roger kept fighting, moving through the upper halls of the manor. Roger punched Pyst in the jaw, Pyst responding with a blow to the kidneys.   
"You're pretty good Rick!"   
"Think they let us sit on asses in the army?"  
Roger jumped in the air and nailed Pyst with a flip kick.   
"Apparently they do!"  
Pyst jumped to his feet and charged Roger. He slammed into him, and the two of them rolled into the central room of the manor.  
  
The Grinder Room.   
  
Pyst looked around but he couldn't find Roger anywhere. He took a step closer to the grinder and looked down. The Grinder itself was on the floor beneath him, the floor he was on being nothing more than a rim around the room.  
  
 "Looking for me?!"  
Pyst whipped around, Roger hitting him in squarely in the face. Pyst stumbled backwards onto a wooden beam suspended over the grinder. Pyst barely managed to steady himself. Roger began to make his way towards him. Pyst slowly backed up.  
"You never did have good balance, did you brother?"   
"No, it's true."  
Roger crept all the more closer and Pyst kept backing up along the beam.   
"I imagine just one little push would make you fall."   
"Maybe..."  
Roger stepped closer. Pyst drew his pistol and fired a single shot. Roger laughed at him.  
"Trying to shoot me? Don't you know that bullets can't kill Vampires?"   
"Who says I was aiming at you?" said Pyst smiling.  
Roger turned. Pyst had shot through the brittle wood that was keeping the beam up. Roger looked at Pyst and growled. Pyst pointed his gun at the last support.   
"I shoot this, we fall."   
"Then we both die!"   
"So? You know I'm crazy! You know I'll do it!"  
Roger began to sweat. Pyst readied his 9mm.   
"Goodbye..."   
"WAIT!"   
"What? You want last words?"   
"No," Roger pulled a remote out of his pocket, smiling. "If you shoot that support, I push this button, and blow your stupid buddies to kingdom come!"   
"With a button?"   
"I rigged this place with C-4 you dumb ****!"  
Pyst glared at Roger, Roger glared back. Pyst grinned evilly.   
"You're bluffing!"   
"What?"   
"Your full of it!"   
"No! I'm serious! I'll blow this whole ******* place up!"   
"If there's one thing I know well about you Roger..." Pyst tightened his grip on the trigger, "...is that you always bluff!"  
Pyst pulled the trigger. The support shattered, the beam breaking in two.  
The two Squirrels fell as the Grinder powered up…


	12. The Last Vampire

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N No comment? Frankly I don't really think there's much to say. Just read it, enjoy it, review it if you wish. I'm trying to finish this off once and for all, so I'm really just running out of notes to give. Maybe the mix between extreme action and subtler humour won't work, but I'll try it anyway. Nothing ventured; nothing gained.)  
  
Chapter 12: The Last Vampire  
  
Stealth and Dark looked around, stunned. They were on the roof of the mansion, and as was common, it was larger when you were actually there. It was almost like a small arena.  
A lightening bolt tore through the sky and clouds gathered over them. Dark looked upwards to feel the first drops of water on his face.  
In a thunderous rumble the Count and a number of Vampires, some large, some small, appeared opposite the Ninja and the Panther. It was obvious that the Count had summoned the storm to block out the ever-approaching daylight.  
  
Dark looked at the Vampires.  
"Is this all you got?" Dark asked, removing his coat. Stealth rolled back the sleeves of his shirt. He tightened his belt. In one swift motion he drew his blade and discarded the sheath.  
"Ve are ze last of our kind. I have gathered ze Vampires here…ve are ze best…ve shall use you and your friends to spread ze Vampire legacy to ze world…" He laughed. "You fool. Do you really think two of you can contend vith my vill? It iz time for you to stop."  
Dark and Stealth took up defensive positions, preparing for the oncoming attack.  
The Count's upper lip curled backward. He made a motion with his hand.  
"_Kill zem…_"  
  
Mon ran through the upper floors searching for the Amulet. Suddenly he stopped.  
"Uh, hey...wait a sec....where's everyone else?"  
He saw no one. He was lost. He turned to leave the room he had walked into and found the door locked behind him.  
"Ooooookay.....HELLO!?!?"  
  
_*LLO?*  
*LLo?*  
*Llo?*  
*llo?*  
_  
"This is getting freaky. Think...Think…Think...thinkthinkthinkthink… Wait a sec, my radio! Of course!" He bent down and fiddled with the knobs. Suddenly to his dismay he discovered that he was once again in the possession of the busted radio.  
  
*In other news, Weasel Mob Leader, Don Weaso, was taken out of his office and spanked with pig fat rubbed on his buttocks. When asked to comment-*  
  
"This is supposed to be a broadcasting radio...riiiight…" He looked at the stairway ahead of him. "Well that looks like the only place to go. And since there are no signs of the UnDead around…"  
  
*_HISSSSS!_*   
  
"Uh oh."  
The Vampire Pyst had shot in the 'dark room' wasn't as dead as Pyst thought. Suddenly it hissed at Mon.   
  
"Well look at what I have here, a soldier from the Platoon. Your gun totting friend gave me quite a sore back there…it's time to return the favour…"  
  
Mon didn't hear any of that. He was forming a plan. At the banquet, before Hell broke out, he had stuffed his face with plenty of garlic-laced foods.  
Gulping down air he belched long and hard in the Vampire's face. The Vampire laughed.  
"Didn't you learn any manners?" It sniffed. "Garlic burp!? GaaAAaRrRgggHHhHhh!!" It coughed and spluttered as the powerful; overwhelming essence burnt its lungs out. It fell to the floor, shrivelling up like a dried prune until it was nothing but a sack of skin and then…nothing. Mon rubbed his stomach.  
"Garlic. Never go into a UnDead infested place without it..."  
  
Four Vampires leapt at Dark. They hissed, and the Count sent the other three at Stealth.   
Dark shoved a stake in the first, whirling left and shoving his sword into the head of the second. Both fell to the ground as dust, and the Dark Flame growled low, staring the last two down.  
  
The minion Vampire let out a war cry and ran at the Panther. A blur of silver was seen, and the sword ended up lodged in the Vampire's eye. The Vampire fell to dust, and Dark picked up his sword. His eyes now mere slits, the Panther dashed at the last of the Vampires. He ducked a punch, and slashed open the Vampire's gut. Roaring he impaled its heart.  
  
Stealth's style of fighting was different to Dark's. It was almost an art form, each motion well revised and thought out. He slashed his final targets head off, a thin line of blood splashing across his shirt. Stealth didn't use silver; he merely went for the two 'kill zones' that still applied to a Vampire; the heart and the head.  
He turned; ready to take on the Last Vampire now that they had eliminated the minions.  
"Stealth! Look out!" Dark warned. But it was too late. The Count, the last of his line, the only one of his race, reached into the unholy deposit of strength he carried in his blood and smashed Stealth in the back. He went flying off the roof, screaming in pain.  
The Count snatched Stealth's sword.  
"Ve are both ze last of our kind…zere are no more Hunters…and no more Vampires…"  
"It ends Batula. Here."  
  
They lunged at each other.  
  
Twisted and ILZ charged into the Grinder room.  
"I and I saw's 'im go in 'ere!"   
"Where the heck did he go?"  
ILZ knelt to examine the blood around the grinder. It was fresh.  
"Oh, no mon…I 'av'an idea of wot happ'd!"   
"Pyst? Where the hell are you?!"  
There was no answer.  
"Ho boy..."   
"Firs' Fla'Feet, no' Pyst!"  
"He was a great guy, although I'd never say that in front of his face..."  
ILZ and Twisted gave a quick salute.   
"Don't party just yet guys!"  
ILZ and Twisted look up to see Pyst hanging onto an out stretched line of duct tape, which was stuck to a broken support beam. Pyst swung on the duct tape and landed in front of ILZ and Twisted. He kissed the roll of duct tape.  
"This stuff saved my ass more times than I can remember!"  
"A'ight mon! Ya made it!"  
"What happened?"  
"A little family reunion. My dumb **** head brother got grinded into a bloody pulp."  
Pyst stood in front of the grinder.  
"AIN'T THAT RIGHT? YOU STUPID **** SUCKING ASS ******!!!"   
"I take it you guys didn't get along?"  
"Hell no! Alright, let's find that amulet and save F.F.!!!"  
  
Squeaky and Mon met ILZ, Twisted and Pyst on the upstairs landing.  
"Any luck?" Squeaky asked.  
"Nope."  
"Damn!"  
"Watch your mouth ****head!" Pyst yelled.  
"**** you piss-face!"  
"Yeah well shove it up your *** ****nut!"  
"****-sucker!"   
"*****-hound!"   
"****-for-brains!"  
"Boy," Twisted whispered, "Playing Scrabble DOES teach them new words…"  
  
Deja and Sarge stood in the cemetery tending to the fallen Stealth. From down on the ground the fight was merely a battle between two blurs, with the occasional flash of silver coming from between them. Deja looked at Sarge.  
"He'll be ok." She propped Stealth up leaving him to recover. She looked at the roof.  
"It's up to him now…" Sarge whispered. Deja nodded. They watched on…  
  
Chael and Oreos worked their way from room to room searching for the Amulet. Their ammo was running low now, after hours of intense fire fights…they opened the next door and stared in horror at the larger than average Zombie waiting for them.  
They raised their weapons and pulled the trigger…  
  
*cl-click-click*  
  
"_...Need a little...help guys?..._"  
  
FlatFeet lunged at the Zombie from behind, gnawing its neck with his razor sharp teeth. The beast fell to the floor, squirming as FlatFeet began tearing chunks out of its head. Suddenly he stopped and spat.   
  
"_Ugh! I will never get used...to this_" he groaned.   
"Thanks Josh," said Chael.   
"_No problem,_" FlatFeet replied, "_But I should be going. I'm starting to see you...as a marinated medium rare Oreos Steak, with Chael...on the side!_"  
"Uuhhh...maybe you should go FlatFeet," said Oreos with concern. FlatFeet left the room, his teeth chattering away behind.    
"Man, we really have to save him. He's starting to see us as food!"  
"Daylight's in a couple of hours…we've got to hurry."  
They set off again in their search for the Count's Amulet.  
  
"You are forgetting something." The two duellers stood back, their blades at their sides.  
"What?"  
The Count reached deep into his robes and drew the Amulet with his free hand. He laughed menacingly.  
"I still have your friend hostage…"  
"Thanks Count. I was looking for that."  
In one swift motion Dark had sliced off Batula's hand. The Amulet, with Batula's aged hand still attached to it, fell off the roof.  
Batula roared in pain, cradling his stump. His wrath doubled, he lunged at Dark with a new born fury.  
  
Everyone had gathered to watch the final showdown. When the emerald green medallion was thrown off the roof they all lunged towards it.  
"I got it!" Pyst dove and slid across the grass. He reached for the amulet as it slowly fell towards the sewer drain.  
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!"  
Pyst just snagged the chain of the amulet.  
"YES! I got it! Who da man?! WHO DA MAN?!" Pyst stood up. The amulet snagged the side of the sewer drain. The chain slipped out of Pyst's hand and the amulet fell into the castle's sewerage system.   
"Oops..."  
"You stupid idiot!!!" RedStorm swore.   
"Now we gotta go after it!" CoolGuy groaned.  
"Relax guys, what could possibly be trying to kill us in the sewers?"  
  
Pyst kicked the sewer drain open. He noticed a ladder on the side and reached for it. Suddenly a giant clawed hand grabbed him by his chest and dragged him inside.  
"JEE-ZUZ!!!" Pyst yelled from down below. "MUTHA FU-"  
***RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT***  
*_SCREEEEE!!!_*  
***RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT***  
*_SIROOW!!!_*  
***RAT-TAT-TAT***  
***RAT-TAT-TAT***  
***RAT-TAT-TAT***  
*_click-click_*  
*_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!_*  
"That's not all I got ya bastard!!!"  
***BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM  
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM***  
  
"Alright guys! It's clear to come down!"  
  
The Count had lost his focus now…whatever foul concoction or incantation had brought the storm was no longer being supported by an iron will…  
The clouds parted just as the first rays of daylight seeped over the horizon.  
The Count swiped his sword at the panther's neck. DarkFlame made a swift duck and roll. He brought his blade up to meet Batula's. They clashed again. Sparks flew from the two blades. Dark sprung back. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he lunged forward. The sun suddenly dazzled Batula as its first rays gleamed in his eyes.  
"_I vas ze last…_" he whispered.  
Blood covered the ground as Dark took off the Count's head.  
  
He picked up Stealth's sword, lifting both blades into the air triumphantly and roared as sunlight began flooding the land once more…  
"Good job soldier…" said Sarge breathing with relief.


	13. The Legacy Falls

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N Stay tuned readers! It isn't over yet! There's still story to go through and the…bonus chapter! Yes, a BONUS chapter, one not related to E.F.B.C. but one certainly related to the Platoon. Catch y' all later. R & R!)  
  
Chapter 13: The Legacy Falls  
  
The squad down in the sewers saw the amulet, to their horror, heading for a whirlpool!   
"NO!!!" cried CoolGuy, but it was too late. The amulet was sucked into the small whirlpool…  
  
Suddenly the surface of the water broke and out swam…  
  
"_Hi guys...I would have thought that you would be here, considering that you want to get...the amulet._"   
FlatFeet spat the amulet onto the concrete and got out of the sewerage next to it. The others got out as well.   
They gazed down at the glittering amulet.  
"So, what do you do with it?" asked Pyst   
  
"_That's an...easy question...you destroy it!!_" said FlatFeet, his eyes full of anticipation. "_We must hurry! It's almost daytime!_"  
In one firm motion FlatFeet brought his foot down on the amulet, crushing it into pieces.  
  
"Now let's see the reaction." said Oreos. Chael watched on, fascinated.  
  
FlatFeet smiled, his body glowing a light green. The light grew strangely intense. FlatFeet's body started to change...   
His skin and fur returned to their life-filled colour. The marks and chunks where he'd been bitten returned to normal. His whole body filled with life, the life that had been deprived from him…   
FlatFeet was alive again!   
  
The squad emerged from the sewers yelling triumphantly. They saw Dark, Sarge and Deja waiting for them to emerge.  
"He's back!" the squad shouted with delight.  
Dark smiled.  
"You're alive."  
"So are you."  
  
Suddenly the whispers characteristic to the UnDead hordes were heard…they had to finish the job.  
"Chael, with me…Pyst, take the rest and head back to the cars. Shoot anything on sight. We've got to blow this bitch to Hell and make sure they all stay there…"  
  
Sarge and Chael headed back towards the mansion's interior while Pyst turned to see the others.  
"Being the trigger-happy psycho that I am, in this situation, I'd normally recommend lots of shooting and killing…"  
"Are you going to recommend anything different this time?" Deja asked, already loading her grenade launcher.  
Pyst loaded his final ammo belt.  
"HELL NO! LET'S GUN DOWN THESE MUTHA BUZZAS!!!"  
Oreos sighed, leaving Pyst to do most of the ploughing. For Oreos the mission was already over…  
"_Oreos…_"  
Oreos turned round to see Mr. BigWig, rotted and headless. Somehow he was muttering to him.  
"_You think it's over?! You think you could kill us all?!_"  
"What you again?!"  
"_You will all d-_"  
"SHUTUP!"  
"_You cheek_!"  
"DON'T CARE!"  
"W_HY YOU…_"  
"DON'T CARE!"  
"_WHY I'LL…_"  
"DON'T ******* CARE!"  
Oreos armed his last grenade and rammed it through Mr. BigWig's chest. He ran and seconds later Zombie intestines flew overhead.  
  
Pyst noticed a zombie sneaking up on Deja. He fired, taking it down.  
"Saved ya ass!" Pyst smirked.  
"Yeah, run a tab!" Deja laughed as she pinned a zombie behind Pyst. The Platoon ploughed through the uprising UnDead. With the Amulet smashed and Batula's control over them lost the Zombies were rioting…  
CoolGuy, Twisted and ILZ had given up on firearms and were now fighting close combat. With a punch from his spiked knuckles CoolGuy sent a Zombie head flying towards Twisted. Twisted reacted by punching it with his fist…as it soared upwards ILZ leapt up sideways and spiked it to earth.  
"Volley!"  
They laughed.  
  
Mon carried the still recovering Stealth under his shoulder as they made their way after Pyst. Mon was armed with his scalpel, the only weapon he had left. His guns hung about him, empty. A hand shot out from beneath the ground and clasped his ankle. He fell to the ground, trying to hack his way out, but to no avail.  
"Stand still Mon!"  
  
*ka-_swing!_*  
  
RedStorm's bladed staff tore the scrambling hands off Mon. Mon helped Stealth to his feet and looked at RedStorm.  
"That's ok," RedStorm smiled. "You can buy me a beer."  
  
"There's too many! We need an exit now!" Pyst yelled. Squeaky's eyes lit up as he held his last can of paraffin. He placed it near the castle wall and ran back.  
  
"SOMEBODY!"  
  
Oreos reached for his Walther PPK. Dark looked at him smiling. He covered his ears.  
"99TH!"  
The Platoon turned to look at Oreos. They stepped away from the wall. Oreos aimed…  
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"  
The can exploded blowing a small hole in the castle wall. They scrambled outside searching for something to block the exit with. Deja ran off only to return seconds later with Sarge's car.  
Everyone eyed her as she reversed the automobile against the hole. The Zombies could be heard scratching away at the car on the other side, but to no avail. She stepped outside, swinging the keys round her finger. She smiled.  
"He can borrow mine."  
"Oh yeah."  
"That's right."  
"Of course."  
"Yup."  
  
Chael and Sarge stared at the giant double doors that had first led them into this mess. The mansion had a different feeling about it in the early morning twilight.  
"We've got to hurry Chael…we need to gut these bastards." He motioned towards the Zombies that were milling aimlessly around the grounds.  
Using his final shotgun cartridge Sarge blew a hole in the lock. The door swung open in its mysterious fashion.  
They ran, heading for the heart of Batula's Castle…the Grinder Room.  
Chael fixed a bar of soap, a vial containing a clear blue liquid and a short fuse. He set the bomb in motion.  
  
"Chael!" Sarge panted as they ran away from the doomed building, "What was in that tube?"  
"Modified Nitro-glycerine!"  
"I'm getting too old for this shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-!!!"  
  
They leapt out of the iron gates and were propelled forward by an intense shockwave.  
  
The house exploded in a ball of blue flame that raced towards the edges of the grounds…every monster, every zombie, was eradicated. Batula's 'Legacy' the Legacy of the Children of the Night went up in smoke…   
  
The Sun rose victoriously over the East…  
  
Behind them the house collapsed with a gratifying *crunch!*. Sarge grabbed his back in pain as he sat upright. They had all gathered around him.   
  
Chael brushed dirt off his pants and looked up at Sarge. He placed his wrap-around shades on, smiling.  
Oreos' tuxedo would need serious dry cleaning…but he still managed to laugh.  
Dark knelt down, every limb in his body aching. He looked at Sarge with his violet irises, nodding.  
Pyst laughed his usual psychotic laughter, finally letting his weapon fall to the ground with a clatter.  
Twisted wiped Zombie gore off of his fingers and looked at the rising sun. He had lived to see morning.  
ILZ lit his final cigarette. He placed it between his lips…then threw it to the ground. He would quit today.  
RedStorm twisted the middle compartment of his staff. The blades sucked into their slots. He looked up.  
Squeaky struggled to free himself from the last of his bandages. Suddenly free, he breathed the crisp morning air.  
CoolGuy ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He removed his sunglasses and enjoyed the morning rays.  
Stealth suddenly stirred on Mon's shoulder. He blinked once or twice. Mon handed him his sword.  
"Did I miss anything?" he asked. Mon laughed heartily and shook his head.  
FlatFeet took out his wallet and removed Cherry's photo from inside of it. He held it close to his forehead.  
Deja leaned against Sarge's shoulder and sighed. She was exhausted.  
"So…is this what you guys do at every dinner party?"  
A round of laughter burst from everyone's lungs.  
"Actually…yeah…" said Sarge smiling.  
  
"Platoon…let's go home…"  
Sarge's car, worse for wear, was still driveable. Five in his Squirrelac, five in Chael's ride and four in ILZ's cab…they drove away from the Ruins and headed towards home and a good days sleep…


	14. I Came I Saw I Conkered

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle**

  
(A/N Here it is! The chapter I've owed you dear readers since WWW'sD:UtT. Enjoy it.)  
  
Chapter 14: I Came. I Saw. I Conkered.  
  
A cell phone rang out from somewhere in Sarge's car. He picked it up, yelling to the others to stop the cars and wait. They drove next to Sarge so they could hear the conversation…  
  
"'llo?"  
"RICO!" a voice boomed over the line. "Where the hell have you been!? We need to speak to you and your men URGENTLY! Get your asses over here now soldier!!"  
The line closed and Sarge looked at his troops, surprised.  
"Well troops…you heard the man… Fasten your seatbelts…"  
  
They floored the cars for all they were worth.  
  
**_Time:_ **_One hour later  
**Location: **Windy Army Division [W.A.D.]_  
  
"Where the hell are they?" the angry Squirrel boomed.  
  
***_KaRAAASH....tinkle tinkle tinkle_***  
  
"Sorry about the wall sir..." said Sarge, getting out of the car. The Platoon followed. Major B. Addass brushed plaster off of his uniform. Sarge looked up and his face lit up. Thomas Warclat and Andrew J. McGregor…  
"WWW! Ajax!" Sarge shook hands with both of them.  
"Sorry we couldn't make that dinner Sarge," said WWW. 'Ajax FireStorm' the Tabby laughed.  
"We had one beer too many…"  
"You didn't miss anything. Believe me."  
Walking in through the hole in the wall came…  
"Cartman! Gavyn! Snickers! What are you guys doing here?"  
"We don't know Sarge…they just called us in…"  
"Look you patsies! Enough chit-*******-chat! Follow me..." the Major barked.  
  
They followed the Major through the wide halls of W.A.D.. They entered an elevator. The elevator began a decent. Dumb elevator music played  
"Well it can't get worse than this..." somebody muttered.  
  
The sound of flatulence filled the air along with a potent odour.  
  
"Oh My Giddy Aunt! Who The?!" Sarge gagged.   
"Dammit Rico! Your men pack a punch!"   
"How many floors left?" Squeaky gasped.  
"Seventy…"  
"YYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"  
  
-70 floors later-  
  
*_ping_*  
  
***G_asp..._**_*_  
  
The Major stepped out and addressed the Platoon.  
"Gentlemen…"  
"Er-HEM!"  
"…and lady. What you shall witness now you have not seen once you leave this room. Am I understood? Good."   
He placed his hand on a pad. A door slid open. They stepped inside and couldn't help but gasp in awe.  
A giant complex spawned under ground, stretching off in all directions. Computers lined the walls, along with tactical charts and posters of 'most wanted' personalities.   
A single emblem declared the title of this facility:  
The Agency.  
  
A familiar figure stood proudly in the centre of the room.   
"Conker?" asked Sarge surprised.  
  
"That's right Sarge. I'll cut to the chase you all look tired. Look we've been keeping an eye on you for quite some time now and frankly you guys are the best we've got. Best stats, best times, largest success rate...You guys are a pain in the ass but hey, we gotta live with it."  
"I resent that..."   
"Listen. We have a little suggestion for you. We, the government of this fine country want to turn you into an elite class of special operatives."  
"Which means..." Pyst asked.  
"When the stuff hits the fan you boys...and girl are the first on the site. You will have to cut all communication with the outside world. You shall be seeing things no other Squirrel has the right to see. You must become anonymous, dead to the world. You shall no longer exist as individuals but only as members of The 99th Platoon. You shall have no names, no surnames on any record. Only you and we, The Agency, will know your real names. There will be no ranks. You will no longer be Privates Sergeants, Lieutenants, or Captains. We shall have our own chain of command. Rico, team leader, takes the orders from us. Anything you do off duty is off the record and we CANNOT help you under any circumstances. If you are caught The Agency shall deny ever knowing you, shall deny your very existence. Only on missions of our own issuing shall we take care of. You are going to be soldiers of fortune, freelance. The cash is better. Don't bring vendettas or any other tet-a-tet **** to The Agency. Once again, any of that and you guys are on your own." He paused and let this entire chunk of information sink in.   
  
"You can take this as you will. Do you accept or do you decline? Remember, anonymity and death to the world in exchange for...a substantial wage increase and funding of all sort, laboratory, medical and arsenal. I'll take it Sarge speaks for you all?"  
  
The Platoon looked at Sarge and nodded. Sarge looked at Conker.  
  
"There are some conditions we need to discuss…"  
"Such as?"  
"FlatFeet will want to bring his wife…"  
"Ok."  
"Chael gets his own lab."  
"Already done."  
"We all need new cars."  
"Will do."  
"And I'll tell you the rest as we think of it. If those conditions are met…then…" he turned and looked at the Platoon. His Platoon. "We're in."  
  
Conker walked up to a computer console. Pictures of the entire Platoon popped up. He double clicked on each soldier's identity. A profile appeared. He typed away some more.  
  
*_Delete records?_*  
  
"Here goes nothin'..." Sarge sighed.  
  
*_click_*  
  
*_The images vanish, text is deleted. Within 24 hours all physical records are deleted. Each Platoon member "dies" one way or another. Within 24 hours there is nothing. Nothing but...The Agency, The 99th Platoon and a very, very, large increase in pay..._*

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_Fade to black_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**


	15. Credits

**The 99th Platoon – Escape from Batula's Castle  
**  
Credits

  
Rico "Sarge" Rodriguez: "Gappap"  
"Oreos": "PatrickSim"  
"Chael": "Chael"  
Rick "Pyst" Gores: Matt "Pyst Dude" Bujold  
Squeaky Fuzz Acore: Tony "Squeaky" Lucero a.k.a. "Zepa" or "Squeaky the Zepa"  
  
--=--  
*Pyst walks out the identity room*  
PYST: Hey! Check it out *Holds up hands* Ain't that cool? No fingerprints!!!  
*He looks at the big soldier on guard*  
PYST: Ain't that cool Chops?  
CHOPS: Don't call me that.  
PYST: Aw, get a sense of humour Chops.  
--=--  
  
Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans: Josh "Flatfeet" Evans  
Stealth LeVasseur: Christian "Stealthkiller300" Levasseur  
Renato "DaMedic" Mon: Renato "DaYetiMon" Whitaker  
"Dark Flame": Ryan "Dark05" Miralos Gonzales  
"Twisted": Josh "RazielUnlimited" Cloos  
  
--=--  
*ILZ grabs the newspaper and flips through it*  
ILZ: What de hell is dis bull****?!  
*Showing everyone the newspaper, ILZ points to an article that reads, "Rastafarian killed trying to stop crazed clown."*  
ILZ: De newspaper runnin' out of ideas, it seem.  
*ILZ tosses the paper on the table and walks over to a vending machine. After putting some quarters in and making his decision, he presses the button. Nothing comes out of the machine*  
ILZ: What be wrong wit dis ting?  
*ILZ kicks the machine*  
ILZ: Work, damn yu!  
--=--  
  
Kenny "CoolGuy" Johnson: Jose "Retroman87" Daniel Osechas  
Miles "RedStorm" Crowell: Glenn "DustyX" Crowell  
Michael "Iron Lion Zion: Candrell: Riley "Shadow Sniper" Kale Silva  
  
--=--  
PYST: That's not how you get a vending machine to work!  
*Pyst draws his gun and fires at the machine. All the bullets bounce off it*  
PYST: What the?  
CHOPS: Bulletproof armour and glass. You'll never break that.  
PYST: Why would you put armour on a vending machine? Why not a tank or hum-vee or something?  
CHOPS: Uh...That's classified…  
--=--  
  
Dana "Déjà vu" Rodriguez: "Dejavu"  
  
--=--  
*Chael goes to the vending machine and removes a side panel. He strikes two wires together and an avalanche of snacks pours out*  
CHAEL: You may not be able to break it open. But it sure as hell can be ****ed with in other ways, eh Chops?  
CHOPS: Don't call me that.  
--=--  
  
Guest Starring:  
Andrew Jackson "Ajax FireStorm" McGregor the Tabby: "Stormfront"  
Eric Cartman the Squirrel: "Eric Cartman"  
Thomas "WWW" Warclat the Tediz: Thomas "WWW.whydowecare.ca" Blight  
Gavyn "Viper" Sykes the Mercenary: "Baldmonkey"  
Samuel Graham Snickers the Squirrel: Adam "SkaterX" Taylor Neal  
  
--=--  
**EXERPT FROM THE DAILY SQUIRREL-GRAPH  
**_"In related news Sergeant Major Rico Rodriguez died in a tragic fishing accident. It appears that Sgt. Maj. Rodriguez was fishing for piranhas when one of the fish leapt out of the bucket and bit his test-"_  
SARGE: Conker!!! What the **** is this all about!!!  
--=--  
  
Count Batula of Squirrelsvania: as himself.  
Cherry Evans: as herself.  
Roger Gores: as himself.  
Major B. Addass: as himself.  
Conker T. Squirrel: as himself.  
  
--=--  
*The doors to The Agency close with a pneumatic hiss. We travel up through the elevator shaft…out of the building and view Windy from a bird's eye view…in the distance we see the sun shining down on Windy…*  
*The Platoon Escaped Batula's Castle…they lived to seen another sunrise…and with their absorption into The Agency, Windy is now a safer place…*  
  
PYST: The more psychotic trigger happy jack asses we get in this Platoon the better! Come on guys, let's get drunk and shoot some defenceless little animals!  
  
*Or maybe not*  
--=--

--Proudly Written and Directed by Gappap--  
  
No Squirrels, Panthers, Zombies, Vampires or Small Defenceless Mammals were harmed in the making of this picture.  
  
**~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~THE END~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~**

**  
**Closing notes from the Author:  
Jee wiz…it's now Wednesday the 23 of July 2003, 4:54 AM. E.F.B.C. was started on the 3/27/2002 2:44:05 PM.  
What can I say? It's a great feeling to finally have another fan-fic in the bag. I hope you, the readers, have enjoyed another chronicle of the bizarre antics the 99th Platoon gets itself into. We have a lot of fun on these missions and it's nice to be able to share it with others. If we didn't get our story out and merely kept it contained in our own memories…then it would fade and dim into obscurity.  
I've two ones coming up for you next…the large and daunting FlatFeet Saga, a three part adventure tale, and PatrickSim has passed the baton of "Tediz Attack: Choose your own adventure" over to me. I've got it all planned out and now need only to start writing it.  
Whether you enjoy them or not they're here none the less…Plat99n: Komiz Isle; Escape From Batula's Castle; WWW's Dream: Uniting the Tediz. A little piece of our history now spreads to you.  
To the Platoon: I hope I've managed to put your characters across, as you would like. No one can write exactly like another writer. We've all got our unique styles and if you look through this fic you can see the little pieces of Dark, of Pyst, of Oreos…sticking through the main weave.  
Thank you for seeing this one, like all the others, through with me. This story, and all the rest, was a team effort and only a team could pull it off.  
To anyone interested in signing up: We hang out at www.gamefaqs.com. In my opinion, GFAQS is the best place to Be on the net… Drop by the Conker's Bad Fur Day boards and leave a message. We'll find you don't worry.  
I hope you enjoyed yourself and felt that you too faced the horrors of Batula's castle side-by-side with the 99th. I know that when I write these I get sucked back into the mission and find myself carried away…far away…just as these stories, just as any good tale, should…  
I've said too much now. Without further adieu, I leave you with this; a phrase I believe applies to the fighting spirit we all possess as human beings. Remember this:   
To believe in the Heroic makes Heroes…  
  
Thank you for your time.  
  
**-~=**G.A.P.**=~-**


End file.
